


Dictionary Of Heartless Words (Said In a Loving Tongue)

by DemonLollipop



Series: Words Unwinding [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Poly Inquisition, Rewrite, Weird Thedas Crossbreeds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonLollipop/pseuds/DemonLollipop
Summary: Rowan was born in a world of soul-marks and soulmates. But after 24 years of living on Earth, she still hadn't found any of them. Until she wakes up in a strange world full of magic, demons and her very dangerous soulmates.All 14 of them.(A Rewrite of Home Is Where The Heart Is)





	1. Minacious

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Here is the (hopefully) long-awaited rewrite of Home Is Where The Heart Is! This version of the story is gonna be a little bit more intense and will have longer chapters. Most chapters will hopefully have about 3-4K words, depending on events. 
> 
> This will also address a few issues way more quickly and add way more!
> 
> So without further ado, here's Rowan!

As she wakes, Rowan can taste ash on her tongue. 

Her mind feels like she's been dipped in molasses as she stirs, eyes barely opening to see the dim-lit dark and faded silver shapes along the walls. One shape lurches towards her, and she hears _something,_ but it sounds like she's underwater.

She _hurts_ and all she can taste is ashes.

The shape continues talking and she lifts her head, trying to look at the shape until she sees its limbs blur in the candlelight. The limb hits her cheek and although it knocks her down, the impact of the fist ( _was_ it an arm?) and the ground as it hits her head is nothing to the agony that rips through her body as her own arm 

**_screams_ **

As it barrels its way past all her senses, she can hear another voice screaming, and thinks that, maybe, it's her own voice being murdered in the darkness.

Her vision fades with the pain and she slips halfway into the deep, only for dull metallic hands to jerk her up. 

Silver swarms her vision and her mind sharpens enough to see that the figure before her isn't silver-skinned, but armored in steel.

The man's face below the helmet makes her wish he was.

Pock-marked and beady-eyed, her captor smiles showing a set of crooked, broken teeth.

“Such a waste of a pretty face, you know?” He rasps and Rowan recoils slightly at the waft of his breath on her face. “Maybe once your trial is done, the Chancellor will let us all have a go before you hang?” The hand not holding her dress slides down, along her shoulder and going for her chest.

Rowan head-butts him.

Her captor recoils with a yell, landing on his ass as he cups his now broken nose, which bleeds under his helmet. Shaking her head, Rowan clears her mind of the fog as the man yells and comes at her again. 

Once, Rowan hated wearing a prosthetic with a passion, hating how it represented something she lost and the life she could have lived.

Now?

She’s immensely glad she had saved up for her custom leg as her ‘foot’ connects with the soldier's crotch. He falls over with a groan and a series of gagging noises. It is, of course, that moment that the other soldiers realize the girl in the dungeon has more spirit than they thought as two of them break from the wall to drag their friend away from her range. Another unsheathes his sword and points it at her.

Rowan stares along the blade with a fire in her eyes that matches the one burning her arm from the inside out.

The soldier falters. The door behind him opens with a bang.

“Stand down Willet.” One of the approaching women orders, her hazel eyes meeting Rowan’s from across the room. Her steps don't falter as she strides forward, barking at the rest of the guards to leave. The woman behind her stares closely at the guard Rowan injured.

Rowan stays stock still as the first woman circles her as if trying to determine a weakness under Rowan’s nightgown. The second stays behind, half in shadow, watching silently. Rowan only meets her eyes for a moment before looking away, determined not to show weakness.

“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now?” Her circling woman asks and Rowan _feels_ the jerk of her soul-bond as it snaps into place in the back of her mind. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. All, except for you” 

Rowan is not proud of her soulmarks, with near all of them fighting words and only one true introduction. Even so, she is less proud of the words that come out of her mouth next.

“Do you always threaten your soulmates or am I just lucky?” Rowan blurts without thinking. The woman _flinches_ away from her as if Rowan’s words are a physical blow to her chest. The shadow woman twitches in Rowan’s periphery and Rowan can see a glint of steel on her belt, even with her half in darkness.

“Soulmate you may be, but innocent you are not.” Her Marked says and lunges forwards, grasping Rowan’s wrist and wrenching it up so Rowan can see the gash in her hand, dripping radioactive sparks. “What is this?!”

“I don't know!” Rowan snaps back and tries to jerk her burning arm back. “Unlike you, I have no idea what's going on!” 

Rowan’s soulmate snarls and Rowan is thrown to the ground, smacking her already sore shoulder into the hard stone. 

“Don't lie to me!” The woman yells and Rowan can see her going for the sword on her waist when the shadow woman steps in.

“Cassandra!” She yells and Rowan’s soulmate whirls around, hand still on the pommel. “We need her _alive”_ They meet eyes and for a long moment, Rowan wonders who is more dangerous. Eventually, Cassandra makes a noise and steps aside, fists clenching.

The woman in the shadows steps forwards now, and Rowan can see her face is somehow kinder than her voice, younger than her dangerous stature suggests. Rowan meets her eyes steadily from where she lays on the ground, hands still bound and vulnerable.

“Do you remember how this happened? How it all began?” The dangerous woman asks and Rowan wants to scream as the second bond clicks into place.

“If I remembered anything, I wouldn't be bound and beaten in a damned dungeon,” Rowan says and can see the other woman twitch minutely as the words register. She keeps her gaze locked as the red-head goes back to Cassandra and watches as they talk quietly, Cassandra keeping an eye on her prone form. Before long, the red-head claps a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder and walk out of the room, leaving them alone.

Rowan tenses as Cassandra unspools more rope and comes forward. The older woman is quick as she takes off the wooden board holding Rowan’s hands and ties the rope tight around her wrists. 

“Get up” Cassandra orders and Rowan squints at her.

“I can't. You’ll have to help me” Rowan retorts and she can swear Cassandra’s eye twitches. Before she can blink, the older woman is jerking her up by her bicep and Rowan stumbles as her ‘foot’ catches on the seam between two bricks. Cassandra growls as she turns back to Rowan and opens her mouth.

“Enou-” Rowan can see the moment Cassandra realizes that her leg isn't really a ‘leg’, her eyes widening and her lips stayed parted, despite stopping mid-word. 

The artificial limb itself had been something Rowan had saved up for when she was younger, after finding out about the Alternate Limb Project and seeing Viktoria Modesta perform. Now, she felt strange as Cassandra took in the sight of the steel pole that makes up her lower leg, complete with the flat bottom and covered in a night-sky pattern. 

Squaring her shoulders, Rowan meets Cassandra’s eyes when she finally tears her gaze away. “Shall we?”

Cassandra is silent for a moment before nodding and dragging Rowan up the first set of stairs. She is kind enough to realize Rowan can't walk as fast and catches Rowan from falling on her face more than once as Rowan tries to get up the narrow stairs without hitting Cassandra with her shoulders. 

Once they are up the stairs, Cassandra undoes the rope for a moment and shoves a pile of clothes at her.

“Get dressed. That dress won't do much for where we are going.” She orders and Rowan sighs before stripping awkwardly in the small room. She resolutely ignores Cassandra’s sharp inhale as she sees the amount of hard-earned scars and metallic Soulmarks on Rowan’s skin, as well as the fact that the artificial limb doesn't stop at her knee, but instead continues up until it's nearly at her pelvis, deep night sky blue turning into a sunset as it goes higher. 

Rowan puts the extra boot aside and rolls up her left pant leg until it's snug against her upper thigh, not wanting it to flap around or make her trip if it got caught under her ‘foot’. Finally dressed, she faces Cassandra and holds out her wrists.

“Ready when you are,” She says simply and tries not to flinch when the harsh rope is tied tight enough that she worries for her circulation. Cassandra leads her out of the little room, past more soldiers standing in front of people who shout and throw things at her as they see her coming. One particular piece of heavy metal hits Rowan in the cheek and her head whips towards the face of an angry young woman, who flinches back as their eyes meet.

Cassandra walks on, and the door to the rest of Rowan’s life opens with a shout and a view of an ash-filled sky.

Rowan winces at the brightness of the snow as they walk out and she can feel Cassandra stop for a moment, letting her own eyes adjust. Blinking away tears, Rowan glances around at the monochrome landscape and stops cold at the sight of the sky.

“It's green,” Rowan blurts, stunned. 

And it is. The sky itself seems poisoned somehow, as tendrils of absinthe green pulse in the clouds overhead, becoming thicker ropes as they congregate towards the center, where Rowan can see a distant pillar of green fire that seems to pulse even from a distance.

Looking at it makes both her heart and head hurt, for a reason she doesn't remember.

“It's called the Breach” Cassandra explains, looking over at her with a furrowed brow. “It's a massive rift into the world of demons and grows bigger with each passing hour. It is also not the only one, but it is the first. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“What could explode that would make _that_? Also, what do you mean demons? You surely aren't talking about real, actual demons are you?” Rowan looks at Cassandra with something akin to horror growing in her chest. 

Something tells her she isn't in Washington anymore.

“We don't know. We were hoping you would, but it seems either you are a very good actress, or as in the dark as we are” Cassandra looks at her closer. “And yes, I do mean _actual demons_ as you put it. For a mage, you seem to be taking such things poorly.”

“Ma-” Rowan starts, about to ask for more information, when she feels the world pulse around her and watches as the pillar _(The Breach, Cassandra called it?)_ thrums like a huge guitar chord and her arms thrums with it.

She hears Cassandra shout when she drops, bound hands jerking as Rowan falls to the ground in agony. The burning in her arm increases again, screaming like a discordant note as her skin tears more around the gash in her palm. Hands, covered in gloves and metal studs, keep her upright as she fights not to bite through her tongue. 

Before long, the spasm passes and Rowan is panting, eyes shut tight to keep from crying. The hands are slow to let her go and Cassandra tilts her head up, prying open her eyes. 

There is almost something like pity in her eyes, if only for a moment.

“Every time the Breach expands so does that mark you bear,” Cassandra helps her up with both hands this time, instead of dragging her up by her bruised shoulder. “And it is killing you.”

Rowan takes a deep breath as her stomach swoops down to her foot and back up. “What do we do?” She asks, voice wavering a bit.

“I am taking you to the Breach. One of our allies theorizes that your mark can close it. But it is only a theory” 

“A theory is better than nothing,” Rowan nods and stands a bit straighter, feeling less like she's about to hurl. “Let's get going.”

Cassandra leads Rowan through a small encampment full of people, each of them staring and shouting at the younger woman as they pass. Rowan can feel stones hitting her, most of them hitting her sore ribs and shoulder. Only a few of them hit her head, with one particularly big one hitting her in the base of her skull, rattling her teeth. 

She keeps her head down and eyes on Cassandra’s feet as they finally pass the last of the tents, and arrive onto a stone bridge.

Then Cassandra is pulling out a knife and cutting her bonds.

“Wha-?” Rowan sputters, confused.

“We need to test your mark on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra explains, putting away her blade. “Having your hands bound may be detrimental to you being able to do so. But be warned; No funny business.” Cassandra meets her gaze with a familiar fire in her eyes and Rowan swallows, nodding.

“No funny business, I promise,” Rowan agrees and with a nod, they are off. A shout from Cassandra has the gate at the end opening and Rowan shoots a glare at one of the soldiers after he trips her, making her stumble into Cassandra’s back. The older woman makes a noise and hauls Rowan back up by her bicep again.

The soldier laughs and Rowan commits his face into her memory for later as the gate closes behind them.

Along the path ahead, huge spike barriers point towards the Breach, and Rowan scrambles more than once to get out of the way of a soldier running back, most of them screaming bloody murder and praying to a Maker. Some of them are silent and Rowan worries when she sees the blank look in their eyes, combined with the blood on their faces.

They are up the hill, finally, the next time Rowan feels the air change and she barely has time to warn Cassandra before she's falling, discordant music ripping into her arm.

Hands keep her stable as Rowan grits her teeth, determined not to scream and losing. As the spasm ends, Rowan lets loose a whimper, feeling her body continue to shake in Cassandra’s arms. 

There is blood in her mouth and she feels like crying as Cassandra unwraps her arms around her and helps her stand.

“They are coming faster now. We have to hurry.” She says, quietly. There is something in her tone that Rowan doesn't want to unpack and she just keeps her hand fisted in Cassandra’s coat as they continue on, not trusting either of her legs to keep her upright.

Neither of them sees the verdant comet as it comes crashing into the bridge when they begin to cross, making stone and mortar erupt under their feet. Chunks rain down around Rowan as she and Cassandra are knocked off the bridge, Cassandra landing meters away from Rowan, still but breathing.

The younger woman struggles to sit up, vision slightly blurry from hitting the ground hard. Tugging on her flesh and blood leg, she finds that it is stuck under a large rock and she can feel something wet seeping through the thick trousers she wears. Her hands scramble to move the rocks, and while she can feel the sharp edges cut into her hands, she is determined to get the fucking rock off of her _leg_.

Finally, the stone is off, Rowan struggling to her feet to get to Cassandra as another comet comes down, skipping like a stone against the cracking ice. Rowan watches in horror as the cracks begin to bubble, frothing at the edges. 

She screams as the first limb comes reaching out of the puddles, and rushes as fast as she can to where Cassandra is unconscious, blood trickling from her temple. The older woman makes a murmuring noise but doesn't stir as the _thing_ lurches from the puddle.

The being seems to be made of rags, tattered cloth covering their form and only thin, scaly hands reaching out of the robes as it looks around, finally catching sight of Rowan standing over Cassandra.

“f͚͙͍̱͓̯o̠͠ͅo͜d?͓͘ ̸̲͙̙̠̬͔” It inquires and Rowan swallows hard as she sees the mouthful of jagged teeth it bears. “ ̸̲͙̙̠̬͔f̸͍̟̺o̳͓̭̯͝O͔͢D!҉”

Rowan goes- not for the sword on Cassandra’s waist, but for one of the broken boxes of supplies that surround them. The blade she pulls from the wreckage is surprisingly well balanced and for the first time since she got to this hell-hole of a world, Rowan smiles.

“Come get me you raggedy bitch!” She hollers, and the thing screams in response. It lurches towards her, away from Cassandra and tries to swipe for her face.

The claws don't have time to reach her.

Steel sings as it goes through the air, and green-black ichor splatters the girl’s face as the reaching arm is cut from the thing’s body. There is another scream, but Rowan tunes it out as she lunged _into_ the thing’s body. A claw catches her waist as she guts the being, leaving it to melt away as she spies another thing lurch out of one of the other puddles. 

“Behind you!” Cassandra yells, and the girl whirls around as a clawed arm comes for her neck. 

Rowan's block is slow, but she manages to fend off the first blow as she watches Cassandra yell and begin to fight the other rag-man. This one is slower than the last, she thinks, as it goes down quicker when Rowan stabs the blade full-force into its neck. There is a gurgle and Rowan can smell rot on its breath.

The face beneath the rags has no eyes and still, Rowan can feel its eyes on her as it falls.

Breathing heavily, Rowan lifts her head to see Cassandra dispatch her rag-man and bash its face in with her shield. She lets the sword fall from her hands when Cassandra catches sight of her and smiles grimly at her as Cassandra come towards her, cursing.

“Are you in a habit of forgetting to look behind you in battle?” Cassandra chastises and fishes out something red from her belt. “You can die after we get to the Breach. Until then, stay alive.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Rowan rasps and fights not to choke as Cassandra grasps her chin and pours the red sludge down her throat. She tries weakly to get away, but Cassandra’s hand seals over her mouth and her eyes spear into Rowan’s.

“Swallow,” Cassandra orders and Rowan tries not to gag as she does, the thick liquid lingering on her tongue.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Rowan makes a face at the musty aftertaste and misses the narrowed eyes Cassandra sports.

“A healing potion. It will help with the blood-loss,” Cassandra examines her closer. “You act as if you haven't ever seen one.”

“I haven't.” Rowan retorts and goes to pick up the blade from the ground. “Can I keep this? If more of those things come around, I don't want to have to go hunting for another weapon.” 

Cassandra frowns and shakes her head. “No. No swords.” She walks over to one of the rubble piles and tosses Rowan a long staff, a blade on one end and an arrow-shaped steel ornament on the other. “Your magic will be more useful than trying to explain how to use a sword.”

Rowan doesn't have it in her to argue that seven years in an acting troupe using both full tang and wooden swords is probably better than her non-existent skill in using magic.

Hopefully, the path ahead won't have any more monsters.

“By the way, what were those rag things?”


	2. Pejorative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heres the second chapter! I probably post the chapters so close together, but I wanted to at least get the first three chapters up this week. The last chapter for this week will be posted either Thursday afternoon or Friday morning. From there, I'm gonna try to post every Sunday and go from there.
> 
> I'm also gonna try to stay 4 chapters ahead in my writing, so if I get a little bit of a block or don't have another written, you all aren't waiting for another week or two for the next one.
> 
> So, without further ado, enjoy!

Rowan feels slightly dizzy after Cassandra’s explanation while they continue on. The older woman had been almost blase about the current situation, explaining that yes, demons were walking the earth and the two things Rowan had killed normally lived in the world of dreams that Mages got their power from. 

She felt sick to her stomach, and the rumbling hum in her bones was not helping.

The next hill had another two Shades at the bottom, pacing the ice in circles as Rowan watched from where she stood behind Cassandra. Her new weapon, a Mage’s staff, felt strange in her hands and seemed to hum with the Breach, albeit a bit less discordant. It felt flimsy as weapons went and Rowan felt herself missing the weight of a blade in her hand.

“Stay here. I'll deal with them and get you when I'm done” Cassandra ordered and pointed at her, eyes intent. “Stay”

Rowan resisted the urge to snort. “Woof,” She said quietly as Cassandra walked away and watched the woman engage with the two Shades, keeping one at bay with her shield while she slashed at the other, longsword glinting in the cold sun.

Then one got past her shield, claws close to Cassandra’s face and Rowan saw red.

Remembering her javelin lessons, the young woman spun her staff and hefted it above her head. Then with a cry, she threw the spear and impaled the Shade through its neck, sticking it to the ground. The Shade melted into rags and verdant slime as it died and Cassandra dispatched her own Shade, turning to see the staff stuck fast in the ice.

The look in her eyes was considering when she looked back up to Rowan atop the hill, and Rowan met her gaze with one more determined than before.

“Are you in a habit of forgetting to look behind you in battle?” She yelled down, parroting Cassandra’s earlier words. The look she gets from the older woman is withering as she jerks the staff from the ice, Rowan carefully making her way down the hill.

“You have no room to talk Prisoner” Cassandra growls and jerks Rowan's arm, eager to get moving again. “Come on”

“Yes Ma’am” Rowan mutters and speeds up her steps a bit while trying not to slip on the ice. Her prosthetic was not made for ice and was making it very clear from the number of times the bottom slipped on the smooth ice. Cassandra kept her hand on Rowan’s shoulder, and Rowan had to resist the odd feeling of knowing that the place she kept her hand was the very place Cassandra had marked her.

After a few moments silence, Cassandra broke it with a mutter Rowan couldn't quite make out.

“Um, what? I can't hear you” Rowan furrowed her brow and flinched at the glare she got.

“I said ‘Thank you’” Cassandra growled and looked away. “I am surprised at your throw. It was very well done”

“You're welcome. And thank you, I guess” Rowan grinned and made the decision never to tell the older woman that she had been aiming for the chest of the thing, not it's head. She got another eye-roll anyway and soon, they were back in combat as Cassandra spotted another two Shades and a wispy green thing on the hill opposite them.

“I will need you to take care of the Wraith while I deal with the Shades” Cassandra stated, frowning. “I cannot get all three from the ground and the Wraith will be weaker. You should be able to handle it”

“Gee thanks” Rowan replied back, deadpan. 

Cassandra ignored her as she charged down the hill and immediately ran over a Shade with her shield. 

Rowan was careful as she went down, staying resolutely away from the skirmish on the ground as she made her way around and up the other hill, keeping her eyes on the ghost-like monster. It seemed to share her curiosity, staying still and docile as she approached. The only inclination that it was even paying attention was the slow turn of the head as it watched her come closer, eyeless sockets dripping with smoke.

“Hello” She whispered, hoping that somehow she wouldn't have to fight the other being.

It didn't have the same hope.

Rowan barely had time to dodge the ball of smoke it sent her way, trails of poison-green shooting through the air. The next ball was a bit easier to get away from once she saw it was aiming for her arm, not her head. The arrow-head of her staff batted away the third it shot and by the time the Wraith tried for the fourth, Rowan was upon it, staff gripped tight.

She went forwards, blade pointed to the center and prepared for the feeling of her staff going through the smoke.

Instead, she felt the blade sink into the Wraith with her entire body and was blinded as her world lit up in violet and white sparks.

_B̶̷҉l̸̵̡a͟c̸ke̵͢n̷̢e̢d͏͡͞ ͠͏s͠҉t̴o̧͘n͟e̵͘,̶̡̧ ̨͠͡s̸o̵me̴̴ơ̶ne̵͟ ̨i͘s̨͢͡ ̵͟w͞͡҉i̡͝t̶̸͡h͜ h͜͝er̸͘,͜ ͝ŗ̷e͟͞d͘ ͢͢a̸͠͡nd͏͢ ҉̸go̴̕l͏̕d͠ a͘nd̕͞ w̷̢h̵̕it̡e҉,̕҉͏ ̛a̷͠n͠d͘ s̴͘͟o͠m҉e̶̸͘o͘n͠҉̕e̡͠ ̴҉is̡҉ ̡̛_ **_w͜a̡͘itin͟͡g̨͘_ **-

There was the sound of a scream, ripped from her throat and when Rowan could see again, it was to the sight of the ash-filled sky above her and Cassandra’s slightly blurry face looking down at her, a frown splitting her pretty face.

“How you got through your Circle training I have no idea” The older woman muttered as she helped Rowan to her feet, and pulled out a blue-white vial from her belt. “Do I need to force this down your throat as well?”

“No” Rowan croaked and winced at how sore her throat felt. The vial was pressed into her hand uncorked and she slammed the thing back like a shot of particularly bad vodka. The taste was similar, she found, to a batch of her cousin's mint-flavored moonshine that he had given her for her twenty-first birthday.

It felt even worse as it went down.

After shaking off the strange tingles in the back of her skull, Rowan took her staff back from Cassandra and tried to ignore the green gore that dripped _up_ from the blade’s tip. She ignored the look Cassandra gave her as she tried to take a step and nearly fell over, her mind preoccupied with the sudden realization she was missing more than just her arrival in this strange, strange place. 

“Come on, we don't have much time” Cassandra grasped her arm and pulled her along, forcing Rowan to stay upright or fall as the pace quickened. Rowan scrambled to keep up as they went up the next hill and Cassandra snarled as Rowan tripped, until one moment Rowan as upright and the next she was in Cassandra’s arms, staff dropped as the older woman ran. “I can hear the fighting! I don't have time for this!”

Rowan winced as she was carried and jostled as they quickly arrived at their destination. Cassandra went from carrying her to putting the girl on the frozen ground and diving into the fray, sword glinting in the sunshine between rags and soldiers.

But as Rowan got herself up, she found herself looking into an emerald abyss.

She didn't care about the pain that shot through her body as she went down the ledge, missed the Shades going for her throat only to be stopped by sharp bolts and ice. 

She could only see the abyss beyond the crystal suspended in the air and she could see it looking back. Flickering images of family, discordant swing music layered over crackling electronics, a face like hers smiling as ţhe͜ ̴f͘la̢-͝

“Quickly, before more come through!” A voice snapped, and Rowan felt a jerk from her hand and her heart as the voice registered and her hand was thrust into the air, fingers spread wide and _something-_

_C҉o̳̺͘nf͕̬̮̖u̷͔̬̘ͅs̙͉̬͎i̴̯̱̱̝͙o̭̟̳ṇ̡̹,̭̬͔ ̺̫̣̞̬p͠a̤i̖̩n̤̤͕̱͍̻͡ͅ, ҉͚ͅt̷̯͈͔͓o̝̬̟̦͇͙͡ǫ̪͚̱̼͉̳ ̝r̦̩͈͍̫̪͔̕e̲̞͎̫̙a̧̪̞̟̱l̬͍̦̺,҉̤͖̰̩ ̰̦̙ͅw̼̬h̗̬e͏̼̤͙͈r̯̪̣ḙ̗ ̠̗͞a̡͉̤m̠̞͙̞͈͎̹ ̥̘̣̖I̢͉̩̭̬̝?̨̥̻̻̺͖̩͍ ̝̜̖͈͠ͅḒ̪̬̲̩̟̥e̡̼̼͉͎s̬̞̘͓p̩a̛͈̜i͍͖̼͚͕r̸,̥͓̳͔̹̪ ̡̦͍͓̬̬̹f̴̱̹̼e̠͓̼͟a̻͈͕͖r̺̤͔͔̯̝,̜ ̭̖̫_ **_w̺̱̘͍ḥ̵̰͖̤ǫ̠̮ ͔̰͍̬͎ą̹ͅr̲͝ẹ͉̺̙͝ ̢̝͔̦̦y̷̻͔͚o̲̦̼̭̭u̷̱̱̙̙͈̜?̗̠̦͉͡-̩͓̞̦_ **

It reached for her and she felt the meeting point, halfway between her hand and heart. It burned like tar on bare skin and ached like broken bones during a storm. It warmed her skin like fresh sunshine and soothed the ache in her chest with soft ice. It longed, lost in a sea and so, so scared, calling out like a c̷͡h̛i͢l͟͡d͞͞-

**_W҉͞͞͏̴H̸̵͜͢E̷R̴̵͟Ę̶ ̵͡҉I̶͢͞S̢͜ ͞M̷̧͜O̴̴T͞͏̵H̵̵̴̨E͘͜R̕͝_ **

Rowan goes past the crying and soothes the edges beyond the abyss, seeing the tear from both sides. Honey-amber eyes watch her grasp the tear and pull it together, until the edges touch and Rowan feels the boost from her lost companion as the tear seals with a pulse of sunshine honey and salt-water tar.

The crystal shattered and Rowan let herself fall.

Strong arms caught her around the middle with a huff of air and Rowan finds herself staring into curious blue-violet eyes set in a sharply angled face. Her newest soulmate is older than Cassandra and she finds herself wondering how long she kept him waiting. The ears don't help her mind stay stable either, their long, sharp points making her wonder about just how different this place is from home.

“You know” She pants and he blinks at her as the bond snaps into place. “I always thought it would be zombies for some reason. I can't tell if this is worse or better.”

He stares for a moment and then clears his throat as he helps her onto her feet. 

“I suppose it could be either” He agrees and he seems to pause, unsure of her. “I _would_ say it is a pleasure to meet you, but I believe it would be inappropriate for the situation”.

Rowan gives him a soft-half smile, aching in places that shouldn't exist. “I know that one all too well” She reassures and the tromping of boots distracts her as another man catches her attention, his short stature a counterpart to her older soulmates lanky build. He winks at her as he rifles through a pile of rags and cleans the crossbow he holds with deference.

“So, question” Rowan wonders aloud, turning back to her elven soulmate. “What just happened?”

“I _had_ theorized that the mark upon you had would be able to close the rifts, due to the similar cause between them. It seems I was correct.” 

An accented voice comes from behind Rowan next, Cassandra staring intently at Rowan. “It can close the Breach?” She eyes Rowan’ s arm again and the way Rowan winces when she leans to the left. A tiny red potion is pressed into Rowan’s hand as her oldest Soulmate nods.

“It is very possible” He confirms and stares at Rowan, watching her throw back the red liquid with a crinkled nose. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation”

Rowan winces at the statement and the shorter man from earlier comes forwards, a smile affixed to his face. “Good! I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever” He says to the Elven man before turning to Rowan. “Names Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong” The last bit is aimed at Cassandra, who rolls her eyes and makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

But it decorates Rowan’s skin nonetheless and her reply is soft, knowing now that all her searching for him wasn't the fault of either of them.

“You know Mr. Tethras, even with the introduction, you have been very, very hard to find” She catches widening of his eyes as the bond snaps into place, and Rowan wonders if she's destined to meet all her soulmates in battle.

“Well, shit” Varric murmurs and Rowan chuckles quietly.

“That seems to be the consensus for everything that’s happened today” Rowan looks around for her staff and hobbles over to one sticking out of a pile of rubble. 

She ignores the broken legs sticking out of the pile as she jerked it out and finds that this one feels different than the last. Along with the staff, she snatches a small dagger from the body, fastening the belt under her shirt and hiding the blade in the small of her back. The chatter of her Soulmates is quiet behind her, and she can hear the frustration in Cassandra’s voice as she replies to Varric. The last of her soulmates, the elven man, is quiet and she doesn't realize how much her head is buzzing until he speaks up from behind her.

“You are injured” His brow is furrowed when she turns to face him, and she can see his eyes are fixed on the numerous cuts and bruises that now litter her arms and chest. “May I?”

“May you what?” Rowan eyes his outstretched hands and briefly sees teal and amber flickering between his fingers. The smells of caramel and mint makes her almost smile, despite everything.

“I can heal your wounds if you would let me. I cannot promise it will not feel strange, but it will help” The older mage keeps his hands outstretched and his eyes on hers.

Rowan chews her lip for a moment and nods. “Sure, heal away” She tries for blase rather than nervous.

The quirk of his brow shows she didn't succeed as he places his hands gently where she's bleeding the most.

Cassandra and Varric wander over as he’s healing the bruise on her sore shoulder, having gotten her head wounds healed for the most part. Rowan doesn't miss the scowl from Cassandra as she takes in the picture.

“You shouldn't be wasting your magic Ser Solas. The girl has been wounded in every fight we have been in, and will likely gain more injuries by the time we reach the Breach” She lectures and pulls Rowan from the older Mages hands. The two of them glare at each other and Rowan resists the urge to sigh.

“It would be more beneficial to keep her uninjured in general Seeker. The fact that she sustained the wounds in the first place is worrying, knowing that you were guarding her” Solas bites back and immediately Cassandra’s eyes narrow and she tries to get into his face.

Tries being the keyword.

In a flash, Rowan has her hand on Cassandra’s chest plate and is leaning as much of her force as she can into it. As weak as she feels, Cassandra stops and glares down at her, the grip on her wrist tightened in warning.

“It does nothing for us to fight Cassandra” The younger woman murmurs. “He was only trying to keep me alive. He won't do it again. Right, Solas?” Her eyes catch the older mages narrowed gaze. She can see something behind them, although she cannot define it.

“I will not _waste_ my magic again Seeker. But if she dies before we reach the Breach, it will be no fault of mine” He doesn't look at Rowan as he walks away, and Rowan lets her shoulders loosen from where she had tensed up. 

“Girl” Rowan winces and looks up at Cassandra from where she is still leaning on the Seeker. Her blue eyes are narrowed and Rowan winces. “You will stay with me until we reach the Breach, am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am” Rowan nods, and finally Cassandra lets go of her wrist and walks away, expecting Rowan to follow. 

“Looks like you've made quite an impression on the Seeker kid” Varric quips from next to her, and Rowan snorts.

“You have no idea” Rowan mutters and then registers what he called her. “And I'm not a kid”

“Well, what else am I supposed to call you? I haven't seen you do much, other than nearly fall over”

“My name’s Rowan. How about you call me that?” She shoots back and Varric smiles.

“Haven't you heard? Names aren't my forte _Thunder_ ”

“Thun-”

“Prisoner! With me!” Cassandra shouts, holding Rowan’s original staff.

“Coming!”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pejorative: Expressing contempt or disapproval


	3. Entelechy

Cassandra was not easy to follow, no matter how Rowan tried.

The older woman had a longer stride and even with the battles in between, Rowan was struggling to catch up to her without stumbling now that Cassandra had gotten what she needed and was now hurrying to the Breach.

Varric was the easiest to walk with, likely due to his height being so close to hers and the concern she saw written on his face when she wasn't looking, and Solas was resolutely ignoring her, likely from her taking Cassandra’s side in their earlier argument. 

(It really wasn't sides, to be honest. Rowan just didn't want her soulmates arguing over her well-fare)

However, trying to follow Cassandra and keep close was ruined by the fact that one of the next hurdles was  _ stairs _ . 

Rowan had always hated stairs after her ‘accident’. They were hard to navigate when she used crutches (although it was a bit easier with them) and using her first prosthetic had involved some maneuvering using the banisters.

But, in the cold of Middle-Of-Fucking-Nowhere, the stairs had no banisters and two of her soulmates were looking down at her from the top, one glaring and one blank-faced. Varric was behind her, looking at her like she was going to open another Breach by glaring at the steep snow-covered steps. 

“Thunder? You alright?” The dwarf side-eyed her from where he stood and she ignored the fact that his hands were in the almost-hovering position.

“Mister Tethras” She breathed and he winced at the ice in her tone. “I am missing a leg. I  _ hate _ stairs.”

“I suppose-”

“Tethras! Kent! Get up here!” Cassandra yelled down, frowning down at them. “What's taking so long?”

“She's having trouble with the stairs!” Varric hollered back and rolled his eyes at the audible noise she made. “Impatient isn't she?” He muttered aside to Rowan.

“She has a point” Rowan conceded, jaw clenching a bit. The Dwarf eyed her from where he stood as she nodded to herself, swore and began to go up the stairs. Her metal leg swung out at an angle as she climbed the stairs two at a time. 

She ignored the looks she got from her Soulmates as she climbed and missed the softer frown on Cassandra’s face when Rowan passed her, determined not to get left behind. 

Soon enough the others were walking with her, and the silence was broken by Varric, asking quite tactfully if she was innocent or not.

“To be completely honest?” Rowan bit her lip and sighed. “I don't remember much before getting here. I remember getting home from work, talking with my sibs and going to bed. Next thing I know, I'm half-conscious in a dungeon being molested by a stranger in metal armor. And every moment I'm awake, I'm half convinced I'm still dreaming”

Solas made a quiet noise from her left, face still impassive as ever while Cassandra’s nose crinkled from where she marched onwards towards a destination Rowan was still cloudy about.

The next set of steps were worse than the first, but Rowan forged onwards anyway, resolved not to show any weakness. 

It helped immensely when they all stumbled upon a few more groups of Wraiths and Cassandra let her get a few whollops in before dispatching the battered remains. More than once, Varric stood back and watched amused as she stabbed and sliced the Wraiths, her staff a spear more than a tool for magic. If Solas noticed the sudden flares and resulting tamping down of Rowan’s magic, he didn't comment, which Rowan was grateful for.

Vaguely, Rowan can hear Cassandra talking to Varric, aside from where Rowan waits at heel as they climb the next section of the mountain.

“I hope Leliana made it through this. Her scouts may be the best, but...” Cassandra pauses, her jaw clenched in a way that makes Rowan want to smooth down the muscles, kiss her on the cheek and show her the bronze lettering that glitters on her right ankle.

But she doesn't, because Cassandra may be hers, but she is not Cassandra’s.

Varric soothes the Seeker, while Solas keeps silent in the back of the bustle. Rowan wishes her voice was stronger, swallows her weakness and ignores the pain in her thigh and arm as she climbs the slope faster. Her blisters are bleeding by now, and she can feel the warm wetness in her sheath, staining the pink and threatening the worn pants she wears. 

For a moment, as she quickens her stride and passes both Varric and Cassandra, the dwarf looks concerned, his eyes glued onto her face. But, it passes quickly when Rowan’s eyes widened minutely, hearing whispers as they pass bodies, ragdolled into the snow.

_ “̸͠҉̕C̷̷̨͠ơ̸̡͝͡m͠͞e̴͟҉͢,҉҉ ̵͢c̷͞h̶̛̛i̛l̡̢͝d͘͟͝,̸̴̸̷͢ ̷͘͢c̡̕o̕̕͘͜͢m̡͢͢e̶͘͡ ̷̷̢͝͞a҉͟͜͠͡n̷̛d̸̛͞ ̛̕͢҉͏s͡e̸̶̛͝e̸͘͡͠,҉̢͠͏ ̵̶̶c̴̛͘͠ą͟͝͝͝n͞͏̡̛'͝t̷̡͟ ̵͘y͏͟͜o̢͜͟͏͡u̧̧͝͡ ̴̛s̷̷̷͏͝e̶̶͡͠e͏̧,̡̨̡ ͝҉̶͡c̢͘a̛͟͟͜n͟͏'̧͞ţ̕̕ ̵̷y̴͠͠o̶̸͠͝u͏̷̷̕ ̴̷̕̕͜h̴̨͞ȩ͜a̴̕̕͜͝r̴̶̨͞͏,̢̛͘͡ ̨̡͝c̴̷͟͢ǫ͢͜m̷̡E͢,̷͢ ̵̷̕҉C҉̡͠o̵̶͟M̷̢͢͜E҉̧͢͞ ̸̶͢t҉̛͏o͘͞҉͢ ͢U̵̧s͞͞”̶͟͝ _

**_̸̸͜"̸̶͟C̶̶̡̨͝O̡͏̵M̨҉E̢͟͡ ͢T̡̨͠O̶͞ ̵̷͠M̶̧̕͘E҉̴̢͢͞"̷͜͞_ **

The four arrive at the top of the hill, the small clearing still and silent, save for the whispering Rift that hangs above it all and the guards that stare at it, transfixed by the fractal-like smoke in the emerald-like crystal.

**“C̛̬̣̭͖͕̰̮̣̟͓̮̭͍ͤ͐̃͑ͦ͑͠͠O̸̡̖̟͚̞̞͎͍͔̩̞̼̖̱̤̲͖͋̉̉ͭͨ͛͂̅̉̈́̆M̷̴̴̷̢̦̯͓̻̭̌͆ͭ̅̒̌͌ͮEͦ͆͂͆ͪ̍̎̊̇͗͐͋͗̊ͭ͒͢͝҉̢̦̦̻̺̫̞ͅ ̵̢̖͖͓͎͕͉̘̤̯̖̜͕̝͙̻̪̦̃͛̑ͧ̎͂̈́̋̚͟A̸̙͍̮̙̟̭͕̥̯̯͖͚̗̞̣̟̜̩̺̓ͧͯͨͮ̆́̒͋ͮ͌͛̌ͮ̆̇ͬ̊̀N̡̩̥̞̖ͭ̑̈̌̂ͫ̎̋̚͘͜͝D̷̴̢͚̜̮̘͇̝̺̙̯̬͉̜̖͈̞ͨͭͩ̐̌ͧ̾̅ͨ̎͆̍̈̃̽ͪ͐͠ ̨̤̫̹̠̩̆̓͊̿ͦ̆̕͝Ṣ̣̫̬͉͓͖͔͓̘̥͉͉̥̗̲̖̌ͩ̈̀͟͠͠ͅẸ̖͚̥̫̟͇̲͚̥͕̹̹͕̭̩̩̳̥ͥ̿̍͆ͮ̒ͭ̔̇̽͆̓ͧ̒̊̇̌̌͢͡E̷̠̘̼̖̲̪͎͙̩͖̤̝͚̐͗̀̆̈̍͊̈́͋̒̀ͨ̊͂͋͊̚͡ͅ”**

The Rift slams open with the cry only Rowan seems to hear and distantly, she can hear and see her Soulmates rush at the same time, their weapons flashing and flying at the Shades that erupt from the misty puddles of magic laying on the ground. But all Rowan can hear is the voice, slick as silk and sweeter than molasses. Her movements seem to slow as its voice, louder and clearer than before, seeps into her ears.

"͠Suc̷h̕ love yoư ͘ha̛v̨e̷ ͝for t̶he̛m͝"҉ The voice whispers and Rowan feels like she's drowning under the heavy words, cloyingly sweet and too thick to rise out of.

"Suc̸h͡ wa̸nt̛ f̡or̸ ҉a͘ lo͏n͏g͠, h̵app̨y͠ ͢li͘fe͞. ͘I̸ cou̧l͜d̕ giv͞e͜ y͟ou th̡a̶t͞ ͝y͟ou̷ k̶now̷. G͟ive ̴you a̢l̕l of͏ ̢th҉em.̛ ̛M̢ak̷ȩ the̛m ͞lo̢ve ̴y̢o͘u,̕ ̸m͟ake t̸h͠e͞m̢ nev̸er ̸wa̸nt to ̀leave.͡ ͟I ͏could͡ ̢l̵ur͟e̵ t͢h͢e̕m ̵all to yǫu, ͝wh͝e͜re they'd be s͜afe̷ a̧nd̨ ha͢pp̡y͏." An image of them all, sitting at a table and smiling appears in Rowan’s mind. Cassandra clad in a red sundress, Varric in golden spectacles and Solas with a smudge of charcoal on his cheek. Leliana giggling as a dog licks her cheek, hair tied back with a lavender ribbon. The other ten, mysterious and shadowed, are there and just as happy as they pass around the food, faceless save for their white smiles. Rowan chokes on the sudden rise of joy, feeling her body begin to cry as something lashes out and scrapes her skin with jagged claws.

"D̨o̸n̛t ̨you ̨w̢ant th̛a͠t? ͘Dont you҉ ̡wa͝n̢t͜ th͡e̕m̴ ͠to be saf͡e͢?̕" The image  _ twists _ suddenly and instead of smiling, her soulmates are  _ limp _ . The red dress is black with blood, the eyes behind the glasses glassy and the charcoal is too red, dripping-

“Rowan! Close it!” Cassandra’s voice jolts Rowan away from the tide of molasses, her hand a brand on the Soulmark decorating her shoulder and the whispering becomes tar, burning, bubbling and clawing at her mind.

**"n̵͞Ơ͞! ̸̴͠I̢ ̡̧w̴i̧͢L͟l͜ ̸͠B̧͜͠E͝ F̕r̵̢͜E̕E̡͠͝ ҉̷̸f͢R҉Om҉ T͘͏h̡҉i̵͘S̴̕.̵̨͘ ͘D̷͜O͘n̡͢t͏̨ ͞L͏̸̨e̶͡͡AVȩ͜ ̵̢̡mE̶̡͞!̨"̷̕**

**"͞͏͜͡I ̶͟͡͞d̕͟͞O̢͠n̴̡T͜҉͟͞ ̕͡͏W̵͝͏A̸̵̡n̵t̶҉̸̢ ̵͝T͠͏̕ơ̷̢̢̕ ̢͜͢͢͡b̛̕̕͢E̸͝ ̷̴̵̕A̛͘͢͝l̴͘͡o̵N̛̕҉E͘̕̕ ̢͢͟͞A͠҉̡N̶̶̡̕͝y͘͟M̧͝o̶͞r̢͏E̸͟͏"̨͜**

Rowan lets Cassandra pull her out, now crying for a different reason as the Lost One cries out in pain while she seals the Rift, shaking as it collapses and implodes on itself. Rowan can’t see the horror on her soulmates faces as she collapses with it, heaving out whatever bile was in her stomach and crying too hard to see clearly as the wailing suddenly stops, silenced with a wave of her hand.

There is chatter, and Cassandra barks an order for the gates to be opened as she hefts Rowan up by the bicep and takes Varric’s offered canteen.    
  


“Open your mouth” She orders, surprisingly gentle. Once Rowan complies, the water from the canteen is poured slowly in. The Seeker instructs her to swish and spit it out and then lets her take the canteen with shaking hands, taking in a few more swallows to settle her empty stomach.

Cassandra is the only one to touch her as she steadies Rowans steps into the forward camp, Varric and Solas looking concerned but never touching, even though Rowan can see more of Varric’s hover-hands. She lets her eyes close for a moment as she hears Leliana announce them and an older man's voice, rough and angry comes through. The tensing of Cassandra’s arm unsettles her, and she can feel her nose wrinkling as the familiar building pressure in her hand comes back. 

With a slow, careful movement, she unloops her arm from Cassandra’s, bites down on the leather strap from the canteen and lets it wash over her, to the horror of her soulmates as she staggers, still shaking in mockery of a seizure. The bile comes again, but Rowan swallows it down along with the feeling of anguish and rides out the wave.

This time, Varric steadies her, his rough hands warm against her hips and sides and leaving far too quickly for Rowan’s comfort as Cassandra asks her to pick a path.

Something in Rowan itches at the question and through the grey-green haze in her mind, she remembers that there are people lost in the mountains. 

To the chagrin of her leg and knowledge of already bleeding blisters, Rowan points to the snowy, steep peaks silently. The old man snarls out something at Cassandra as they pass, and Rowan snarls back without thinking, not noticing the way her voice changes slightly, becoming two-toned and sonorous beneath the tremble.

The old man does and flinches back with wide eyes and a pale face.

The feral thing in Rowan's chest purred in delight as they continue on into the mountain pass. The going is slow at first, Rowan still recovering from her ‘fit’, and her Soulmates looking at her with varying levels of concern. She can feel the familiar icy numbness set in, her emotions too frazzled to do anything but weld together into a pane of solid glass. 

The ladders to climb up into the actual pass are a challenge for her leg, so she climbs them like a monkey with nothing but her arms, thanking Trevor for drilling them in climbing and endurance along with sword-work and acting. The others seem to notice her ease with climbing and finally, Varric says something after staring at her make quick work of the last of the ladders.

“How does a girl like you climb things like that?” He asks, eyeing her shoulders and biceps. Rowan turns to him from where she had been staring blankly at the mountain wall. 

“I trained for 10 years in an acting troupe” She states bluntly and regrets that she can't feel enough to laugh at the expression on his face.

“You were an actor?” Solas edges in, speaking to her outright for the first time since the argument. His brow is arched and Cassandra makes a noise of interest.

“Only for faires and such. We did demonstrations and had battles every other weekend at the local theatre, but the real ‘play’ fights we saved for the Seasonal fairs. One in each season, except for in the autumn, where we had three” Rowan begins to move again, seeking the beginning of the cave, her movements sluggish and languid. 

Cassandra opens her mouth to pry more about her past, only to leap forward suddenly as a Shade with a mohawk lunges out of the mine entrance claws barely missing Rowan’s eyes. The ensuing battle is messy, with three people trying to deal with the demons while the fourth stays out of the way, trying her best to not get killed by demons or ice spells.

Then Solas is knocked to the ground and as the Shade above him goes to swing, Rowan is there. The arm swinging is redirected to the left of Solas’ head and she overextends it before slipping her pilfered blade out of its sheath and stabbing into the Shade’s head. Two more quick jerking moments and the thing melts into goo and rags with Rowan standing above Solas, her knife still raised and clutched in white-knuckled hands.

“Alright?” Rowan grunts, hand falling to her side, but her grip staying as tight as before. The older mage looks almost stunned, his porcelain veneer cracking a bit before sealing back up and nodding. 

“I am well. Thank you” She doesn't offer a hand up, and the elf waves off Varric’s as he stands, brushing off imaginary dirt from his thighs. 

The next two battles are lackluster, and when Cassandra finds a chest hidden away, she gives Rowan the thick jacket to go over her thin shirt, thinking her still shaking hands are from the cold. It helps keep her warm though, so Rowan doesn't bother correcting the incorrect assumption.

Her stolen dagger is still out, and Cassandra doesn't bother to take it from her, no matter the sliver of concern in her otherwise determined eyes. There isn't a moment for rest as they exit the cavern, even though Rowan’s eyes pulse unhappily at the sudden white light. They all descend the ladders quickly, and the stairs make Rowan’s leg scream out in pain louder than the previously dull, constant ache she had been experiencing.

There is silence as they finally reach the clearing, Rowan flinching at the sudden, strong smell of raw meat while Varric hisses through his teeth.

When she opens her eyes, Rowan can see why.

The small clearing at the front of the cavern is covered in bodies. Scattered, bloodied and burned, they lay like broken dolls in the snow, staining it cherry red. Rowan nearly gags at sight and only keeps her stomach from heaving by covering her mouth and nose with her Marked hand. There is only one person face-up in the snow, watching the sky with glassy once-blue eyes. 

Her face is young, younger than Rowan and when the older girl closes her eyes, it makes her look like she’s asleep, surrounded by spilled snow cones. 

Rowan ignores that there is nothing below her waist as she straightens.

“This...this cannot be all of them” Cassandra murmurs, eyes roving over the bodies and silently counting. Her mouth is set in a tight line, and her skin looks as green as Rowan feels.

“The others must be holed up somewhere ahead. We should reach them soon if we hurry” Varric inputs and Rowan nods, already moving forward. She can hear Solas mention something about the Breach, his deep voice carrying a hint of urgency.

But then-

**"͏̶͜͝͠M̷̵̢̧̛o͡͝t̛͏͜h̸̷e̷͡͠r̸̕̕͜?̶͠ ̵̢͠͝W̷͜͞͠h̨̕͞͠e̸̕͠r̸͏͝e͡҉̵̛͡ ̕͢a͏̕͢͜͞r̶̸͢e̶̛͜͟ ҉͟͠y̛̛̛̕o҉͏̷̛͢u͡͡͠͞?҉̸ ̧͏I͝͠͝͞m̷̶̴͝͝ ̷̵̡͘s͠͡c̛͟͡͞a͜͝͏̨ŗ̶̧͘e̕͏͏͠҉d̶̡̡̕͢!͏̨҉"̛͏҉** Rowan can hear the whisper of a rift, now in the voice of a small child, terrified. She can feel herself break into as much of a run as her leg can muster, her soulmates shouting out something behind her. 

**̵̷̨͟͞"̸̷͞͏̴M͏̛ơ̴̴͘m̧͝m͟͞y̷̷̢̡!͘͜͝ ҉̢҉̢P̴̨͏L͠͏̵̡͡ȩ̷͘͞͠ą͜S̨e҉̷̛͏ ̸̶͢͠c̴͡o̡̢͜M҉̴̸̧e̴̛͞ ̡̧͘͡B̸̴̕͝a͘͜C̵̸͜͠K͝͡!҉̢"̡** The Rift opens with another cry, the child-spirit crying out in panic as spindle-limbed beings burst from the glittering crystal. Each one carries an aura of terror in them, but Rowan cannot feel it over the sorrowful panic coming from the Rift itself. Connecting to it makes the panic sink in further, but she can feel the Lost Child weeping, covered in salt-water tears and thick foggy fear, just beyond her reach-

The child's honey-blonde curls shake as they look up and from Reality, Rowan can feel their eyeless gaze meet hers, the golden ichor dripping down cheeks still chubby with baby-fat. There is a shudder and Rowan is ripped from the Rift as the child reaches for her with claw-tipped hands.

The chaos of Reality is jarring after the sullen salt-water panic and Rowan realizes she's in the center of a circle, shielded by Cassandra and Varric.  _ But where's- _

“Wheres Solas?” Rowan whispered and Cassandra makes a noise, pushing her a bit more into the circle. 

“He can fend for himself” She states and a sliver of ice drags down Rowan’s spine. Her eyes flicker around, the echoes of the Rift-child still sounding in her ears, until she sees him with a puddle of acid-green mist bubbling up under his feet.

“Solas!” She shouts and he doesn't respond, too far away to hear, too far away to run as a Demon leaps out from the puddle.

The world freezes and she can hear a whispering, crying child.

**"͡P̴͜͡le͏as̸̛͠e̵ ̧͜d̨o͟͟nt ̴l̵e͏a҉ve̸͞ ̵̵m̵̢͜e̶̸"̛҉̨**

Rowan starts forwards, unslinging the spear from her back, only to have Cassandra grab her wrist so hard her bones creak. Her head whips around, hazel meeting sea-glass, both determined and full of just rage beneath the surface.

“You are staying here, you cannot save-”

_ “I will save who I like, and you will not stop me” _ Rowan growled, ripped her hand from the shocked Seeker’s grasp and threw her staff as the demon swung its arm at a fallen Solas.

There was a pause, just as the staff hit, the blade sinking into the demons extended mouth and allowing the rest to follow until the staff was nearly clear through the demon. Then-

_ Sparks _ .

Glittering purple sparks burst from the staff in a cacophony of noise, mixing with the demons scream of agony as they burned their way into its skin and down their ruined throat. As the demon wailed, Solas scrambled away and watched as it shuddered and finally collapsed, turning into a strange gooey lump on the snowy ground.

Without pause, Rowan connected again to the Rift, seeking out the center, the lost child still crying alone.

“It's okay sweetie. It's okay” She whispered as she felt their tiny, clawed fingers grasp at the dress she wore, wet in the salt water. A sob erupted from the child as they buried their head in her chest, trembling with fear. 

“̛I'm̢ s̢c͢a͢red!̛ M̨o̡mm͘y ͝le͡ft̸ me ̕alon͞e̵ a͜nd ̸I ͜can't fi͡nd͘ h͞e̴r҉!̸”҉The spirit whispered and lifted their head, eyes leaking gold in thick rivulets.

“Well, you can't stay here sweetie. It's too dangerous” Rowan brushed a honey-colored comb from the child-spirits face. The empty sockets closed as the spirit nuzzled her hand, expression going peaceful for a moment.

“C͘a̸n ͝I stay̵ ͏wit̸h t̕h̷e two of̶ you?̛ ̢I ̸p̧r͏om̵i̧se i’l̛l ̕be go̢od͜! I͏ w̨o̢n't̶ ̡ev̧e̴n t͠ry t͘o͜ ̨c̴o̷me ͘th̴rough!”͏

“Two? Who-” Rowan tried to pull away, only to feel a hand cover her eyes with another dripping, molten hand joining hers on the child's head.

“C͞om̷̴e̢̛͢ ̸́͘A͡b̧́͡a̶͟͡n͜͜d͏̧͏o̶n̡͞͝ḿ҉e̡͠͠n̵͢t͜.̴ I̧t̶s͏̕ ͢t̷im̸͟e͘ ҉͞t͠͏̸o͞ ̛҉̶le̵̶͜av̛͟e̡͏ ̢͡n̸o̸͠w̴̡"̴̶ A voice whispered, soft and feminine. “C̸͘l̸̴o͏͏s͢e͘͞ ͞t̴h̴̵e͡ ̢p̧or͠t͘al  **D̷̴͘͘͠ ̸͢͜a҉͞ ̛͜u͏̷̡̛͟ ̸̸̨̨g҉ ̵̧̛h̷͞ ̨͜͢t̵̸̡̕͞e҉ ҉͟r̴͡͏.** I̸t͘͢ is͘̕ time҉̡ ̵͜͢t̡̧o̧͞ c̷̢͝o̡nt͞i̴͟n͠u͠e͠ you͠r̵͠ ̴̕jóur͝n҉̛͠eỳ̢̕.̕ Rowan felt the brush of a kiss on her cheek as she was dragged out of the Rift, and watched it implode from where she stood on the snowy clearing, surrounded by love and lonelier than ever.

She let her body fall and didn't bother catching herself as she landed in the snow, gazing at the ash-grey and Breach-green sky. 

“Thunder?” Varric voice broke her from the sky, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked at her prone form sprawled in the snow. The others were a ways away, scouts looking at her with apprehension and no small trace of abject curiosity. “You alright kid?”

She blinked at him for a moment, the unknowns spirits kiss still burning beneath the skin of her cheek. 

“I'm fine” She lied and got up, taking his hand when her prosthetic didn't want to let her up. “Can we go now?”

“This way” Cassandra beckoned with a wave of her hand, jaw set and eyes narrowed. “We are almost to the Breach”. When Rowan got close enough, the older woman’s hand snapped out and grabbed her bicep hard enough to hurt. 

“Cassandra, your hurting-” Rowan protested and Cassandra shook her a bit, hand tightening even further.

“You will not do that again” She hissed through gritted teeth. “You will follow my orders-”

_ Slap! _

Rowan's palm connected with the Seeker’s cheek with enough force to rattle Cassandra’s teeth, making her grip loosen on her arm. The older woman staggered back a bit, blinking as her ears rang.

“I follow  _ no-ones _ orders” Rowan snarled back and met Cassandra’s eyes. “I am helping because I am the only one who can. When this is over, soulmate or not, you will  _ never _ touch me again. I will close the Breach, and then I will decide whether or not I will stay. Now, let's get this over with.” With those final, damning words, Rowan ripped her arm from Cassandra’s weak grip and made her way down the hill, uncaring of the gazes from her other two soulmates and the squad of scouts watching.

She had been without them for twenty-three years. 

She could be without them for the next twenty-three.

The rest of the journey to the Breach was silent, not even Varric trying to make conversation with the two women. Rowan’s gait had become stilted and by now, not even the dirt and ichor from the demons could cover the fact that there was blood soaking through the cloth, making red patches on the hem of her pants.

She was just so  _ tired _ .

The next ‘hill’ contained a scene out of Rowan’s nightmares. 

Scattered around the once gilded marble floors, burnt bodies were scattered. Some in midst of prayer, hands clasped and lifted, while others were in the midst of conversation or dancing, their limbs broken off at the joints. There were varying sizes, some huge, over 6 feet and horned, while others were small, and even with Varric’s stature, there was no one that small unless-

“There were children” Rowan breathed and Varric hissed a sharp breath. She turned to him, eyes wider than before. “ _ There were children here _ ”

“It was meant to be talks for peace” Cassandra informed her, voice subdued. “The children of Mages unable to have them in the Circle, the children who had come into their magic, even those who had chosen to become Templars despite the Order crumbling to ashes. So many lives lost for  _ nothing _ ”

“And you thought I did this?” Rowan whispered and looked at their faces, full of sorrow and guilt. “What kind of monster did you think I was?”

“We didn’t know. We still  _ don't _ know. You are the only one left.” 

Rowan gritted her teeth and turned away from them, burning from the inside out. Her steps along the ground were brutal and as she turned the corner, away from the burnt, twisted bodies, she saw the Breach, the scar upon the world wrought by some cruel  _ monster _ . 

It was beautiful.

Absinthe green tendrils reached into the sky and down to the deep crater of the earth. Crystalline striations streaked the column where it hung in the air, while the smell of salt-water, petrichor, and enriched earth lingered on the wind.

But, it was also the most terrifying thing Rowan had ever seen.

The tendrils wound into the air in fractal patterns, unending and sharp as a razor. The striations were knife cuts in the fabric of reality, each dripping with smoke and teeth-aching cold. Beneath the smell of water and soil, decay lingered, too sweet and cloying on Rowan’s tongue like road-kill in the middle of June. She could feel herself gag, choking on the thick air and her eyes burned with tears-

“Thunder, breathe” Varric’s voice came from behind her, and even though she could feel the heat of him next to her, she was so  _ cold _ . “You need to breathe. We are almost there. Just a little while longer” He didn't touch her, and for that she was grateful. She was so close to shattering, crumbling, that just one touch from any of them, even Cassandra, would break her.

“Let's get this over with” She gasped out finally and began to walk. She ignored the scouts, and their gazes as they descended, dismissed the whispering crimson stones that sang so sweetly and tried not to think about the screaming woman whose voice echoed along the scorched cavernous scar that marked the sight of the Breach.

Landing at the bottom was by far the worst part though, and Rowan felt herself gape when she watched herself burst through a huge wooden door in her nightgown.

“ **Kill the cripple”** The specter of the past boomed and Rowan barely contains her hiss at his words.

Cassandra didn't dare touch her after the last time, so Rowan got to watch her go through the five stages of grief all at once in a split second, as Solas informed her that the Rift had to be fully opened to be truly sealed like it needed to be. 

“Just once more Rowan,” He said aside to the girl as he led her to the silent hovering crystal. “Then you can go home. We won't bother you anymore.”

Rowan was very quiet for a moment before she looked at him and very gently touched his cheek with her unmarked hand. Their eyes met, blue-violet to green and she felt the breath leave her body for a moment. “A cage is a cage Solas” She whispered as she drew her hand away and faced the Rift. “No matter how pretty the bars and warden may be”

The Rift opened and Rowan was lost to the undertow.

If you asked Rowan later how the battle at the First Rift went, she wouldn't be able to tell you with complete honesty. For her, there was silence and salt water, the Rift pulling her under like a sapling in a tsunami. The Pride demon that erupted from the tear in the Viel never touched her, nor did any of the Shades that followed ever try to pull her out as she unknowingly ripped at the Rift, again and again, trying to reach the surface.

Her soulmates would never know that the Rift contained a Leviathan named Patience, whose power was so massive that when Rowan surfaced, she could still feel the lingering salt on her skin and the words that the spirit had spoken.

Then the Rift was closed and Rowan was allowed to drift, her broken body lying unresponsive on the floor of the Temple as her soulmates tried desperately to combat the encroaching ink that threatened their soulmarks. 

None of them would know until many months later that at the moment Rowan’s heart stopped beating, several things happened all at once.

In Orlais, a Qunari gained a new scar, a mage froze her wine and an elf missed her shot.

In Ferelden, an exile cut his thumb whittling, a spirit found himself breathless and a man far from home found himself homesick.

On a road in the middle of no-where, a boy from Kirkwall lamented the loss of the last chance he had at happiness.

And then-

  
There was  _ color. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entelechy: In Philosophy, it is the realization of potential.


	4. Noctambulist

Rowan was dreaming.

She could feel the beat of her heart echoing as she opened her eyes, finding herself in infinite smoke, grey and green tendrils wafting over her body. She didn't so much as hit the ground as she expected, but instead found herself placed gently down, the fabric of the world cushioning her fall.

She let herself lay there, eyes open and yet blind to anything but the grey sky and the vague, yet menacing, skyline. She didn't move, didn't speak, and just let the sound of her heart echo along the misty ground. Then, she heard them, amongst the silence.

Footsteps.

Soft ones, and careful as they approached, the footsteps sounded out like church bells in the otherwise silent mists. Slowly, they stopped a ways away from where Rowan lay, as if in wait. Laying still, Rowan waited to see if they would continue on, perhaps leaving her be if she didn't move. But nothing sounded and Rowan made a decision. 

A bit apprehensive, Rowan pulled herself up, noticing for the first time that instead of the blank space where her left leg was supposed to be, there was a spiraling cone, with six points emanating from under her skin until they coalesced into a sharp point at the end. Her first steps clicked along the smoking ground, tendrils of mist curling around her ankles and between the struts of her new leg. Without reason or direction, the girl began to walk, intent on nothing but exploration.

The owner of the footsteps didn't appear immediately, following slowly behind her as Rowan’s mind ran in circles as the world ever-so-slowly began to change around her, green and grey fading into the soft peaches and golds of fog during sunrise. Eventually, the ground under Rowan’s feet changed along with it, unseen stone becoming lush green grass, still wet with dew, and clinging to the sole of her foot. 

“It’s so peaceful here” She whispered and flinched at how loud her voice sounded in the echoing expanse of the dream-world before her. 

“For now.” A soft lilting voice came from beside her, startling Rowan even more. “Such things are easy to change in places such as this”

From the misty distance behind her, a figure emerged. Tall and slender, with a curtain of butter-yellow hair and skin the color of melted steel. Their eyes, Rowan noticed as they came closer, were a corn-flower blue with heavy lids and haloed by thick blond lashes. 

“Sorry, do I know you?” Rowan’s apprehension flared a bit and she could feel her muscles tense upon remembering all the things that she’d encountered so far that weren't human. Whatever this place was, she wasn't going to put her guard down.

A soft laugh came from the figure, as they came within arm’s reach. “Not yet. I am Pragma, one of the seven Loves in this world. You are a baby, a new-born mage with nowhere to go. Do you think you can fight me?”

“I can try” Rowan didn't back down, locking eyes with Pragma, who seemed amused. 

“I think I like you little one” Pragma seemed to decide and Rowan could just barely feel something slither under her feel, the ground hiding something beneath the grass. “I will not harm you, for tonight at least. I will answer any question you ask of me until sunrise if it would be amicable”

“ _ Any _ question?” 

“Within reason” Pragma amended and held out a steel-grey hand. “What say you?”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at the hand, her mother's warnings about prices and Fae echoing. “What is your price for companionship, information, and a truce?”

“A single kiss, gifted from you to me, as the sun rises before you awaken.”

One blink, two blinks, and Rowan smiled finally, nodding. “A deal then.” Her hand wrapped around the other’s, surprised to find the hand was cold, rather like a pond in the late stages of autumn. The hand tugged gently and Rowan let herself be led into the deeper recesses of the mist, where she could see shapes beginning to vaguely form.

“What is this place?”

“To most, it is called the Fade. It houses those like me, spirits and demons, who dwell in the ever-changing. Those like you, humans, elves and the Kossith, visit here when you dream. Your nature is more solid than ours, and your will causes the Fade to change with your whims. Even now, without you being aware of it, the Fade shapes itself to you” Pragma motioned with their free hand, indicating the formerly vague shapes now becoming solid masses, blurry blobs of color becoming wildflowers and a wooden fence.

“I’m doing this?” Rowan breathed and finally, tugged Pragma’s hand back to stop. “What happens if I try, instead of passively doing it?”

“Then you can shape it easier and faster. Would you like to try?”

“Please?” 

Pragma chuckled at the wide-eyed curiosity in Rowan’s eyes, the vibrant spark unwavering. “Alright. Why don't you make us somewhere to sit?”

As the spirit said the words, Rowan was already thinking about what she wanted. Not far from their feet, Pragma watched as a pavilion rose from the grassy plain, the carved white marble pillars a sharp contrast to the pinks and golds of the fog. Benches came up from the floor, with slightly sloped seats and tiny tables interspersed between them. 

All matter of flowers sprouted from the sides, making the pillars no longer white, but shades of pink, red and orange, the random burst of a white moonflower making them look to be on fire. 

The final touch, one that Pragma found to be quite astonishing, was the twin oak trees that shaded the sides of the pavilion, their leaves all shades of red, brown and orange.

“You make beautiful constructs Rowan” They whispered aside to the girl as she stared. The spirit tugged at her hand again it was clear Rowan didn't want to move and they made their way onto the cold marble floors.

Once within the pavilion, Rowan found herself calmer and solid. A strange thing, to feel inconsistent and hazy where you were once whole, and even stranger to feel whole once more. 

"Do you feel better now? More in control?" Pragma prompted, voice soft as they watched Rowan gaze out into the slowly changing void of the Fade.

“A little. Is it always like this?”

“Only if you keep it like this. It will change over time, just as you do. But you can change it at any time”

Rowan gave a vague hum and leaned gently onto Pragma’s shoulder, radiating quiet contentment that made the spirit quietly fearful that they would be interrupted.

But no Sloth joined them as the scenery finally solidified into a paradise for the two of them. Lush, green grass, the bare light of a sunrise, the smells of a chilly spring and all the colors of autumn all mixed together in quiet harmony.

“You said there are others in this place” Rowan spoke quietly, her voice cracking the silence but melding well with the slowly rising chorus of imaginary birds. “Where are they?”

“Many will not come until they are called” Pragma ran a slow, tentative hand through Rowan’s fire-colored curls. “If you are scared, Fear and Terror will join you. If you are upset, perhaps Despair or Grief. It depends on your child”

“Why did you come then? You said you were Love, but...” Rowan trailed off, giving off an aura of curiosity, and an undercurrent of uncertainty. In the beyond, Pragma saw the flicker of a broken tail and a jagged grin.

“I am _ a _ Love. I was called by your soul” Pragma tapped Rowan’s chest, just above her heart. “Your Soulmarks give you an aura that my family and I enjoy. Before, we were only Loves. Now we have names. We took them from your memories as they bled into the Fade”

“My memories? What kind of- Oh! The Greek words? The ones I read about in my Psych class?” Rowan sat up straight, looking at Pragma confused as she tried to remember the source.

“The exact same” The spirit confirmed and brushed a curl behind Rowan’s ear as a second tail moved through the grass, a straight waving flag of orange fluff. “As I said, your memories influence the world around you. Even if the first two days-”

“Two days?!” Rowan stood up suddenly, a bolt of panic bursting through the paradise like thunder. “I've been asleep for TWO DAYS?”

“Rowan, calm yourself” Pragma ordered, eyes scanning the horizon for skittering limbs. “You will call the more  _ unsavory _ spirits here if you are not careful”

“But- two  _ days _ Pragma. What if I didn't close the Breach? What if my soulmates got hurt? What if-”

“ _ Rowan _ ” Pragma stressed and man-handled the girl back down. “I said calm yourself. I will explain as soon as you do, but you must be  _ calm _ ” The spirits hands are tight against Rowan’s biceps, and Rowan lets herself be pulled down onto the marble seat, unneeded breaths slowing as Pragma rubs her back slowly. 

The pair don't see the skittering legs along the horizon or the blood that oozes onto the ground where a pair of cats pounced on a rotting spider.

“I cannot say what happened on the other side of the Veil” Pragma starts and places a finger on Rowan’s lips when she goes to speak. “Listen. The other side is not my domain, but I can tell you that for now, there is some peace. Some are still being taken, so we cannot say that all is well, but it seems that the Taking has stopped spreading. This means that-”

“I didn't close the Breach, but I stopped it getting bigger?” Rowan guessed and was relieved to see Pragma nod. 

“Correct. I have also seen the Dreamer whose Mark you bear wandering. He searched for you, but due to your injuries, my family kept you hidden to let you recover, We feared his magic would interfere with the healing.” 

“Solas? Why would his magic hurt me?” Rowan was growing concerned again and Pragma shook their head. 

“Not hurt you, but simply interfere. You are new to this world and must acclimate properly. His is old and stuck in his ways. If he tried to speed up the process, he could make it harder for you to access your magic naturally.”

“Like the bends?”

“The what?”

Rowan huffed a bit. “It's a thing that happens when you go from high pressure to a low-pressure place. If your body doesn't acclimate slowly, it can cause a lot of pain as your body gets rid of nitrogen bubbles. It hurts like a  _ bitch _ apparently.”

“Hmm” Pragma hummed and scratched gently at Rowan’s scalp. “Not that intense, but I suppose so. Nonetheless, he waited for you. It is likely he will be back looking for you, but it is your choice if you wish to see him”

Rowan was silent for a long moment, before sighing deeply. “I kinda made him angry, the last time we had a conversation. I'm not sure that would be a good idea. Not until we can have an actual conversation out in the real world” 

“That is a fair idea” The spirit conceded. “It is your choice and your Mark. But he did not seem angry when he called for you” Pragma felt almost bad for the wince Rowan gave but said nothing else.

“Now! The sun rises on your third and final day asleep, and our time together is up. It is time, I fear, for you to wake up. Are you ready?” 

“Um, no? But I don't really have a choice now do I?” 

“No, not really,” Pragma said brightly, before lifting Rowan’s chin, looking deep into the young mage's eyes. “Will you pay your fee?”

In answer, Rowan sealed her lips over Pragma’s. There was a softness that Rowan wasn't expecting, despite Pragma’s appearance and beneath the burgeoning feeling of awakening, she could taste honey and blackberries.

Rowan opened her eyes to the soft sounds of people talking quietly out of sight, the familiar bustle of a busy street and bird song. The light coming from the window was too bright for her eyes, causing her pupils to constrict painfully after being in the dark for so long. Once her eyes had adjusted and the tears were blinked away, the girl looked around her strange well-lit cage.

The cabin she finds herself in is empty of people and full of things. Bottles of liquid in various colors are scattered along with the desk in the corner, along with books, thick heavy things with leather spines and yellowed pages. The birdcage in the corner nearest to it is empty but looks like it was very recently made so. The bookshelf in the corner is loaded with more tomes, cracked spines and weathered leather a common theme.

But it is peaceful and Rowan can feel herself lower her guard a bit as she sits up, the rough but warm blankets spread on her body falling away with a rustle. Cautiously, she begins to run her hands along her arms, finding a few new scars along the arm with the Mark and none on her other. 

The Mark in the center of her palm no longer spits sparks, but she can still feel the skin stretch uncomfortably around its verdant edges.

The next step, Rowan finds, is to leave her bed and see if she is truly free. The covers, she finds, are thicker than she thought and layered high enough that she wonders if this cabin is truly a cage, perhaps intended to instead to be a sickbed.

But as she pulls them away, and sees her stump, bare and more scarred than ever, she winces. Her stump from the accident had never been pretty, with lacerations and broken, shattered bones making way to skin and staples, to stitches and finally to scars. The ones she traces are new, pale but thick lines where she knows blisters grew, popped and bled, before becoming deep cuts into her skin.

Standing is a challenge, even with the table next to the bed. Her body feels weak, and it reminds her of the last time she broke her arm after a particularly rough bout during training. Her working leg is stable against the cold wood of the floor and trying to navigate is bad in itself, Rowan finds and it becomes a nightmare as she realizes that the reason she can't find her prosthetic is because it isn't here.

The room, while filled with things, has none of hers, not even the clothes Cassandra gave her when they first set out to close the Breach.

Then, the door opens to admit a thin, russet-haired elf.

Her face is pretty, if plain, and covered in enough freckles to coat the night sky. Deep green eyes meet hers, vibrant and full of life. She is the sort of pretty that Rowan would think to see at the Theater as a second or third princess, all too happy to be wooed by a knight like Rowan was.

What isn't very princess like though, is the loud, shrill  _ shriek _ the girl admits as she drops the crate of bottles she’s carrying into the cabin.

“Um,” Rowan starts very eloquently and is immediately over-ridden by the girl as she begins to panic, big eyes wide in fear.

“Your Worship, I am so sorry! I didn't know you were awake! I'll tell Lady Cassandra at once! She told me it was important and I mustn’t disappoint her!” The girl babbles and turns in a little circle before pausing and looking at Rowan once more, and then with another shout of “At once!” her form disappears out the open door, Rowan catching sight of armor and people outside before it slams shut.

Rowan can't help but gape at the slammed door and an involuntary squeak comes from her mouth in confusion. She lets herself have a moment to reset her mind, the confusion from before morphing into outright madness. 

Then, she begins to start to leave. 

The staff in the corner, although taller than her and unwieldy, is sturdy enough as she fashions it into a sort of brace along her leg, tying it with pieces of leather cord that she finds with the books. It's awkward tying her leg to the staff, even if she does it well and she finds that holding onto the pole with one hand while her other is loose is the best way to walk.

Once secured, the girl ties her slip in a knot at her hip to avoid tripping and pulls a rough-looking shawl from a hook, draping it over her shoulders and tying it. The pair of slippers by the door is now unmatched as Rowan slips her right foot into one of them carefully. Finally, girded for war, she goes to the door and reaches out her hand slowly, wary of anything that might burst through or hit her with rushing force.

But, her hand pushes it open with no problems and she sees the people she saved for real this time, mind processing at a mile a minute.

While she can see soldiers, standing guard with sword, shield, and spear, she can see maids in apron and bonnets, priestesses in red and white, along with civilians dressed in all manner of clothes meant for the permafrost that seems to coat everything in this place.

They all are staring at her, faces nigh unreadable to the young woman as she slowly begins to make her way down the steps. It is silent, not even a whisper threading along the crowd as Rowan carefully walks through the guiding crowd. She can feel her hackles raised slightly at the staring and keeps her eyes up, and her shoulders squared. Her jaw aches a bit at how hard her jaw clenches as some shuffle and move with a sudden movement and more than once, she sees hands  _ almost _ come up to touch her before their neighbor makes them stop with a hissed word or hard smack.

Then, as she reaches the stairs to the rest of the village, a soldier, young and green with new armor and the barest hint of stubble on his cheeks, comes up to her left side. He keeps his eyes low as he bows and quietly offers his arm to her, motioning to the stairs.

“Have you need of aid Your Worship?” He whispers, voice soft and still so, so young.

“If you offer it, Sir” Rowan responds and places her hand gently on his arm, fingers gripping tight to the chainmail links covering his arm. He gives no indication that her grip is too tight as he helps her up the stairs, slowly but surely as the crowd watches, slow whispers spreading like ripples.

By the time they reach the church-like building Rowan remembers leaving when she first awoke, the chatter is a low murmur and her companion is less tense, his shoulders back and at attention, but no longer up to his ears.

“Which room is Lady Cassandra in?” Rowan broke the silence between them quietly, and still, the soldier flinched before steeling himself.

“The lady Seeker is in the back most room, with Sister Leliana and the Grand Chancellor. Is that where we are going?” The soldier's voice was more solid this time and Rowan gave him a (hopefully) reassuring squeeze to his bicep.

“Will you accompany me to the door? I will be fine from there, I think”

“Of course Your Worship”

The walk along the corridor to the door that held many things unknown was short but felt like an eternity to Rowan as the soldier guiding her bowed and left her alone to push open the door.

“Here goes nothing” She murmured and gripped the handle.

She didn't hear the yelling until it was too late.

  
  



	5. Divaricate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's more pain~
> 
> Nothing but angst~

The door had been hiding a great many things, Rowan thinks, as she takes in Cassandra yelling at the familiar, if unwanted, face of the Grand Chancellor who had given up on the bridge. They were close together, nearly touching, and both turned to bear her witness as she opened the door and stayed very still, as if that would prevent them from seeing her.

Alas, Rowan had no such luck.

“Seize her!” The Chancellor cried, and Rowan let out an undignified yelp as a pair of strong armored hands grabbed her arms from nowhere, making her lose her grip on the staff keeping her upright. She barely had time to make a noise of pain before she lost her balance, the sudden movement jarring her shoulders as the guards tightened their grips and tried to keep a hold of her.

This seemed to infuriate Cassandra even more, as her counter order was barked harsher than she had given orders to Rowan not three days before.

“Release her!” The words barely had time to escape Cassandra before Rowan was let go, unceremoniously toppling over with no way to catch herself with nothing keeping her up. Her knee and stump made a hard thumping sound on the floor as she landed and Rowan had to grit her teeth from crying out as it jarred the odd edges of her cut bone.

The glare she gave the guards had them both flinching back, surprised by the duality of the girls behavior. She made to get up while Cassandra and the Chancellor continued to argue with each other and found it difficult with the staff tied to her leg. Several quick tugs later and she was standing, braced against the huge table as the Chancellor left, the two guards flanking him as the door closed behind them.

“Herald?” The tone in Cassandra’s voice had Rowan looking up to see the Seeker watching her with a furrowed brow and uncertainty written in her face. “Are you alright?”

“That's not my name” Rowan stood a bit taller, stabbing the end of her staff into the ground to balance herself. “And no, I'm not alright. I am very confused and am in a bit of pain. If someone could explain what just happened, that would be  _ wonderful _ ”

The older women exchanged glances at the icy tone Rowan had adopted and Leliana was the first to nod, walking towards Rowan carefully. A chair was pulled from the wall and set within reach of the younger girl, Leliana motioning to it with a waved hand. 

“It would be best it you sat down for this” She murmured and Rowan silently agreed as she slid onto the chair, but not letting go of her staff. “Where should we start?”

“How about after the Breach? I seem to have gone into a coma and missed a few things” Cassandra nodded at the observation and went over to a small tray in the corner.

“After the Rift was closed, your body was... broken. The backlash from closing it caused your arm to be, for lack of a better term, shredded. We were able to put you back together and reverse most of the damage” Cassandra looked disturbed for a moment before her expression smoothed out into minor irritation. “After that, we brought to back to Haven where the Healers could take care of you. During this time, people have begun to see you as Chosen by the Maker himself, to aid us in sealing the Breach”

“Excuse me?” Rowan squeaked, looking shocked. “After all the rocks and beating and getting dragged from hell and back, now people think I'm a holy figure?”

Leliana nodded, cutting Cassandra off from speaking as she came a bit closer to Rowan. “Not everyone, however. Some, like the Chancellor, think you are still guilty of killing the Divine, and seek to have you hang in Val Royeaux.” Her tone was blunt and professional, but Rowan could still hear an undercurrent of sharp steel beneath the words.

Determining who it was for, however, was a different story.

“And you? What do you think?” Rowan looked at both of her soulmates, women who had either helped or harmed her in equal measures. Her chest felt tight as Cassandra fixed her with a look, eyes unreadable, dropping her own eyes in response.

“I believe you are innocent of the crimes for which we have jailed you ” She said, and clenched her jaw. “You came to us in our hour of need, and did nothing but try to aid us even with how we treated you. Truly, the Maker has given us a great gift by giving you to us, as Andraste’s Herald”

Rowan was silent for a long moment, keeping her eyes carefully on the map in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leliana give Cassandra a sharp look, brow furrowed.

“And as your soulmate?” Rowan inquired, softer than before. This time, her eyes raised to meet Cassandra and Leliana’s, her expression carefully blank.

“I-I do not think that is a good idea” Cassandra said slowly, her eyes sliding away from Rowan’s sharp gaze. Rowans chest tightened as she continued, the Seeker looking resolutely at the map. “Too much is at risk for us to Bond, and with circumstances as they are, it would be better to keep our relationship to strictly professional one.''

Beside her, Leliana nodded in agreement. “We need you to aid us in sealing the Breach, as much as you are able. To add another layer of complication on top of teaching you how to fight, speak and keep you safe, it would be too much.”

Rowan swallowed the lump of dying hope that blocked her throat and nodded, pushing down the sudden wave of bitter sorrow. It was reasonable. She could do reasonable. It wasn't like they were outright refuting her.

Right?

“I understand” The girl fixed a smile on her face, small but acceptable. “Where do we go from here?”

“For now, I will have your bodyguards take you to Adan to ensure you have no lingering side effects from your long rest. While you are being tending to and Harrit fits you for your new leg, as the old one was beyond repair, we will gather the rest of your council for a meeting on our next steps. I ask that you be prepared for a long night Herald” Leliana walked over to the door, her steps light on the stone. After sticking her head out the door and conversing with someone for a few moments, the door was opened wider to admit two new individuals into the room.

The first was an elven women, older than Rowan by a few years with straight blonde hair, deeply tanned skin and a complicated face tattoo, masking half of her face in deep black ink. The other woman was shorter, and held the same stature as Varric, stoat and broad-shouldered. Her paler skin was well contrasted by the ink-black of her hair and the vibrant blue of the tattoo that swept across her eyes.

Each were both beautiful, armed and armored, and looking directly at Rowan with curious but fierce gazes.

“Herald, these are scouts Isana Cadash and Athras Lavellan. They will be assigned to you as your bodyguards for the foreseeable future, or until we can determine you are safe without them. One will be sleeping in your cabin with you at all times, while the other does her other duties” Leliana nodded to each woman in turn and Rowan gave them each a nod back, internally bristling but keeping her fake polite smile still fixed to her face.

“It is nice to meet the both of you” 

A grunt from the elf was the only answer she got from Athras, while Isana gave her a smile back, face brightening considerably. “Nice to meet you too Your Worship. Shall we get you to Master Adan?”

“Please” Rowans stood, very carefully making her way over to the women. Isana immediately slung an arm around her hips, stabilizing the younger woman as they made their way out of the room.

“Cadash! I want her back by noon, am I clear?” Cassandra cut in as they went through the doorway. 

“Yes Seeker Pentaghast. I'll have her back in time your meeting, safe and sound” The dwarf caught Rowan’s eyes and rolled her own conspiratorially, making Rowan’s fake smile a bit more genuine. Behind them, Cassandra made a disgruntled noise, but didn't interrupt them again as the three women walked through the church-like building on their way to even more strangers.

The crowd outside had thinned a bit, no longer long lines of people staring, but instead small groups of people milling about, doing their jobs and only occasionally sneaking very obvious looks at the trio. The soldier from before was easy to pick out amongst the milling armored individuals walking between tent and cabin and Rowan quietly turned to Isana, tapping her shoulder.

“Scout Cadash, do you know who that soldier over there is? He helped me earlier and I wanted to thank him” Isana blinked and looked over, before giving Rowan a big smile.

“Thats Benton Barlow. Kind little Marcher kid who joined up a few months back, during the prep for the Conclave. I'll ask Sister Leliana to ensure the kid is rewarded. That good?”

“Sounds perfect, thank you” Rowan relaxed a bit, gradually finding that the two guards assigned to her weren't as bad as she originally thought. Even though she bristled at being guarded, the people guarding her could be worse, and during the rest of the walk to Adan, Isana was only too happy to chatter to Rowan while Athras scanned the crowd, glaring at anyone to got too terribly close. They were an odd pair, but not horrible.

By the time they all reached the tiny, strange-smelling cabin, Rowan was laughing for real, her green eyes crinkled at the corners as Isana told her a long, rambling joke regarding a creature called a nug and several bottles of strong whiskey.

“-Then the nug, drunk as all hell, runs up to the duster and squeals at him so hard, the duster fell over!” Isana cackled as they opened the door to the cabin, with Rowan bursting out into giggles as she caught the befuzzled expression on the man insides face.

“Um, can I help-oh! Herald, it's you. I almost didn't recognize you awake” The man, who Rowan assumed to be Adan, looked her over and huffed. “It seems I was incorrect about the timeline of how long you would be asleep. Can you tell if there are any side-effects from the healing and medicine? Headaches, pain in your arm, stomach aches?”

Rowan blinked at him as Isana led her over to a little bench, allowing her to sit down while Adan puttered around the cabin, peering at jars on the various shelves. Isana and Athras took position next to her, standing at parade rest and looking attentive while Isana held her staff. 

“No symptoms yet, but I've only been awake for a few hours. I am however prone to headaches and muscle cramps” Rowan supplied and watched Adan hum, before he rifled through a few jars and began mixing. After a while, with Athras looking over his shoulder silently (which seemed to be a trend with the tanner woman), Adan was able to hand Rowan a cup of steaming tea, which she took with a murmured ‘Thank You’. 

It was bitter, and almost too hot to drink, but within a few sips, Rowan no longer cared as she sunk into her thoughts while Athras and Adan silently worked together. The sadness from before, and the merest hope she had squashed threatened her eyes while she sat, silent and still. 

Cassandra and Leliana did not want her.

The words  _ professional relationship, too much risk  _ and  _ another complication _ swam in her mind, swirling and scraping along the edges of her consciousness. While yes, Rowan had been angry at Cassandra earlier (furious, really), there was still a hope in her for them to talk after, to determine why they were brought together.

But Cassandra saw her as a savior, untouchable and unmateable. She saw her as a blessing, in ways Rowan was scared to dig deeper into. And even worse, Leliana seemed to agree, both women keeping her at arms length, behind a shield.

It  _ hurt _ , more than anything Rowan had felt on Earth. More than the Mark, tearing her apart. More than the Breach as it tore her asunder, stopping her heart and ripping skin from muscle without splitting the skin.

A touch to her cheek had her flinching back, coming back from her thoughts with such whiplash, she was confused for a moment where she was. The hand, Isana’s by the look of the glove, snapped back as well, clearly surprised by her full body flinch. 

“Herald?” Isana was kneeling in front of her, dark eyes searching Rowan’s face with concern etched deep into her features. Behind her, Athras and Adan had both stopped and were staring as well, along with a new human man, dressed in a leather apron and rough clothes splattered with burns, carrying a small bundle of cloth. “Your Worship, are you alright?”

“I'm fine, sorry, did you need me?” Rowan shook the overwhelming feels under the metaphorical rug as she slid a chipper smile on her face, thanking the years of acting lessons she went through.

But Isana saw through it, and frowned deeper. She made to speak, but the man behind her walked forwards instead, clearly willing to take charge.

“I was told you needed your new leg Your Worship” The man muttered, almost as gruff as Adan had been. He gave Isana a look when she went to speak again. “Let the girl be Cadash. Her reasons are her own.”

“Reasons sir?” Rowan’s brow furrowed and this time Athras spoke up, a small frown on her normally blank face.

“You were crying My Lady. Isana tried to get your attention, but you wouldn't respond” The elf explained and cast a look to her fellow bodyguard. “Would you like to talk-”

“No, no thank you” Rowan stammered and clumsily wiped the unseen wetness from her eyes, keeping her polite smile in place. “I would rather we get today over with, thank you Athras. Is that my leg?”

The blacksmith nodded as he unwrapped his parcel, and Rowan resolutely ignored the look on her bodyguards faces as she pointed all of her attention to the man.

“It's not as fancy as your old one, but it will work in a pinch until we can get a better way of making that knee” He explained and began to loosen some tiny knobs along the socket of the leg. “Let see if it fits, shall we?”

“Please” Rowan breathed and stood up carefully, the blacksmiths shoulder a good anchor as she stabilized. The leg was carefully placed over her stump, Harrit instructing her to rock to rid herself of air bubbles before he tightened the knobs, ensuring it was snug against her thigh. 

The first few steps were wobbly, and unsure as Rowan tried to determine the ability of her new leg. It was very simple, and the knee clicked with each step, but she was standing and walking without a guide or any abnormal pain, so she counted it was a victory.

“Well? It fit alright?” Harrit prompted, raising a bushy red eyebrow. Rowan’s smile was a more genuine one this time, full of teeth.

“Fits as perfect as we can get sir. Thank you.” She responded and untied the knot at her hip that held her dress up. The fabric thankfully didn't get tangled with the leg as she gave a few more steps before turning to Athras and Isana, who still looked at her uncertain. “Shall we go to that meeting now? I think Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana will be waiting for us.”

“Of course Herald” Isana said after a moment and Rowan noticed she very carefully did not give the younger woman her staff, keeping it carefully in her grasp. 

After another thank you to Harrit and Adan, the trio was on their way back to the Chantry. Behind her, Rowan could hear her bodyguards whispering, and resolved herself to be watched for the rest of her stay in this world, either by allies or enemies. As the big doors opened to the main hall, she allowed her heart to ice over, keeping her feelings carefully under wraps as she watched women in habits and robes gasp at the sight of her and, in some cases, kneel on the cold stone floor.

Her jaw clenched for a moment at the sight and every part of her screamed to say ‘fuck it’, leave the building, steal a horse and find the nearest village that didn't know her face.

But, the Breach needed closing. She couldn't ignore that, no matter how she wanted to.

“We’ll come and collect you after your meeting Your Worship” Isana interrupted her near crisis of conscience with a hand on Rowan’s elbow, patting it lightly. “Is there anything you’d like us to bring to your cabin?”

“A bottle of whiskey” Rowan responded, whip quick. Isana blinked at the speed and words before she looked to Athras who shrugged lightly. 

“That can be arranged”Isana conceded and nodded to the door. “I'll have it by your bedside by the time you get out”

And with a bow the two were gone, leaving Rowan to blink at the door in front of her, which stood closed and stalwart mockingly.

“Okay Rowan” The girl whispered aside to herself, gripping the handle. “Lets get this over with”

The door was pushed open and the first thing Rowan could determine was that somehow, everyone in Thedas was beautiful.

“Ah, Herald, your here. We expected you a bit later” Leliana was the first one to speak up, her hands full of papers like much of the rest of the room. At her words, the two unknown occupants looked up at Rowan.

The first was a beautiful woman, with smooth bronzed skin and dark hair wrapped up into a high bun. Her face was sweet, and the little beauty mark on her chin solidified the Noble stature in a way that the gold and blue dress seemed to hint at. She was unmarred by scars or lines and the board in her hands was topped by a tiny ink-pot and a feather pen.

The second was a man, with skin paler than the woman's but clearly weathered by the sun. His light hair was slicked back in a way that suggested a lot of gel, but also in a way that Rowan recognized would tame even the most stubborn curls. His face, handsome and softly lined by time and stress, bore a scar across his lips along one side, as if he had narrowly avoided getting his head cut in two.

“Herald, these are your other two advisers” Cassandra nodded at the two, motioning to each of them with her free hand. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet. She is our ambassador and chief diplomat. She will be instructing you in court procedures when it comes time”

Lady Josephine gave Rowan a bright, happy smile. “ I have heard so much about you Your Worship. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Rowan resisted the urge to flinch as the words from her Mark settled in the back of her mind. About to respond, she was cut off by Cassandra introducing the man in the room.

“And this is Commander Cullen. He leads the Inquisition’s forces and will be assigning you a tutor for help with combat when you cannot use your magic.”

Cullen’s gaze flickered up from his papers, and he stood a little straighter when he saw Rowan’s gaze on him. “ Such as they are. We've lost quite a few soldiers and with all thats happening, I fear for our future.”

_ ‘Two more soulmates’  _ Rowan thought, looking at the two over without speaking. ‘ _ Two more people to disappoint’. _ Swallowing the near permanent lump in her throat, Rowan smiled politely, deciding to address Josephine first.

“A pleasure to meet you as well Lady Josephine. Hopefully our lessons go smoothly”  Rowan watched as Josephine's smile cracked along the edges and dropped as her Bond snapped into place between them. Turning to Cullen, she was scared, terrified of rejection and the pain of a torn bond. 

But, she wouldn't know unless she said those words, what ever had Marked his skin.

“ And as for you Commander, if Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Leliana have faith in you, then so do I” Rowan’s words were more certain than she felt, and Cullen’s expression changed as well, eyes widening but somber face staying firmly put.

“You- you're-” Josephine stumbled along her words and Leliana caught on quickly that something had changed, locking onto Rowan with wide eyes.

“Are they-?” The older red-head didn't have to bother finishing her sentence before Rowan was nodding, carefully not looking at anyone.

“They are. That brings the total of Bonds to 6 now” The girl very carefully didn't flinch when Cassandra swore from across the room, something glass breaking to her left. 

“Six bonds? How many do you have in total?” Josephine’s voice broke through the simmering tension, her question soft and shocked.

Rowan winced, remembering her own mothers expression whenever someone would ask the same question about her second daughter. “I have 14 soulmates. Three gold, three silver, and nine bronze” She recites dutifully, and winces as Josephine begins to mutter about repercussions.

“Oh no, no this is not good! If the Chantry finds out about her Soulmarks, they will fight even harder to make the Inquisition disband” Josephine huffs lightly and begins to scribble on her clipboard-like slate, frowning deeply at the paper. “She already scares them, but to know she has that many... They will  _ not  _ be happy”

“Is it really that bad?” Rowan asks, feeling ice slowly dig into her heart. But, when Josephine doesn't respond, Leliana answers the double-sided question instead.

“The Chantry approves in pairs and trios, but tends to disapprove of Bonds with more than three people” She informs Rowan. “Before, we might have been able to swing you having four soulmates, but with 14, we will have to come up with a plan to hide it from the Chantry”

At this, Rowan’s head snaps up to meet Leliana’s eyes and she sees what she’s done in full effect. Cullen is flushed and the sword on his hip is gripped tight. Cassandra’s hands are white-knuckled on the edge of the table, her jaw gritted tight enough it hurts Rowan just to see. Even Leliana, who seemed almost untouchable, is flustered if the rosy points of color on her cheeks are anything to go by.

“What do we do?” She asks, and looks at all of them, heart cold in her chest. 

“We could choose a public soulmate?” Josephine suggests and Rowan swings her gaze to the woman. “If it looks like the Herald has only one soulmate, it might be better. We could pick one of us-”

“No, not one of us” Cassandra interrupts, standing fully. “It would be best if the Chantry didn't think any of us are Bonded to the Herald. Mage Solas and Master Tethras are also her Soulmates, but with their respectively unknown and blatantly open pasts, even they would not be the best choices.”

Rowan watches them discuss her future detached, each of them arguing who would be best suited to present her while the girl sinks into a chair by the door. Josephine vies for a minor noble who can keep a secret, while Cullen wants a strong soldier who can protect her. Cassandra’s choice is an unknown scout, one of Leliana’s trusted, while the Spymaster herself stays quiet, looking at Rowan, who sits there blankly, unmoving and unresponsive to the conversation around her.

“Why don't we ask the Herald who she wants?” Leliana finally says and the chatter in the room stops, the three arguing individuals finally going silent. They watch as Leliana walks over to the silent Herald and, in a moment of softness, kneels in front of the girl. 

“Herald?” She murmurs and when Rowan doesn't respond, she tries again, gently tapping the girls folded hands. “Rowan?”

A twitch is the only indication that the girl is paying attention until her eyes meet Leliana’s, the grass-green looking glassy at they meet the Spymaster’s. “Yes Sister Leliana?” Her voice was soft and blank in a way that made Leliana’s skin itch, tempting her to break the promise she had made with Cassandra regarding the girl.

Swallowing the temptation to take the girl in her arms, Leliana sighs. “We need to pick a soulmate for you to be in public with. Do you have a preference?”

Rowan’s eyes scanned the room, before meeting Leliana’s. “I can't have my real ones, so what's the point?” The question is soft and cuts deeper than Leliana cares to show. The hiss from Cullen behind her shows that it affects the others as well. 

The girl stands, the click of her knee cutting the silence that permeates the room. “I don't care who you assign. I'll be in my cabin if you need me.”

“Wait! We have things to discuss about-” Cassandra tries to stop her, but is interrupted by Rowan.

“About what!” Rowan yells, whirling and now, they can see tears making their way down her face, which makes the anger in her expression all the more cutting. “About my life? About my soulmates? About everything that was  _ ripped  _ from me the moment I woke up in this stupid, bloody,  _ cruel _ world?”

Her eyes look all of them over and she can see Josephine flinch under her gaze, and Cullen looking away. But Rowan is  _ tired _ and angry at all of them, and all she wants to do is be held and told for the first time since she got here that they  _ want _ her. 

“All I wanted, ALL I wanted was for to you want me. For 24 years, I waited. I watched everyone else find their soulmates, watched them be happy and live their best lives while I trained in my troupe and made a name for myself, hoping you’d be  _ proud  _ of me. Then I wake up here, bound and scared to find that my soulmates want me  _ dead _ . That this world isn't mine and demons are everywhere. And  _ now _ , I think for a moment I can finally rest and actually talk to you all and you don't even  _ want _ me” There is painful silence after Rowan stops speaking, the crack in her voice obvious. The tears have stopped by now and simply linger on her flushed, angry cheeks.

“Herald-” Cullen tries to speak but the sound of crackling stops him as they watch the Mark in Rowan’s hand flare as she opens her palm, stopping him before he can continue.

“Don't  _ Commander _ . Just don't” Rowan doesn't look at them as she opens the door, walking through it with no fanfare.

The slam of the door behind her sounded like the closing of a tomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Divaricate: To spread apart; branch; diverge.


	6. Stratagem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the sixth chapter, where the going really starts to get good. 
> 
> Gotta love them tropes, am i right?

Choosing to avoid her cabin and anyone involved who would disturb her, Rowan walks through Haven following nothing but her instincts. The tears on her cheeks are dry but obvious and she knows well that her eyes are ringed in red and puffy.

The looks on the villagers faces are shock, and dismay as they watch their holy woman wander, nightgown still on and utterly silent. Two pair of eyes watch from one of the cabins on the hill with something akin to horror, remembering the fire in the girl from before, wondering who or what caused the tear-tracks on her cheeks. But even with this, no one stops her as her feet carry her outside the gates for the first time since she was out of chains.

Outside is a field, an iced over lake and still too many people, fighting in line upon line, shouting and making noise. It rattles Rowan’s teeth as she walks past, the sound of sword on sword, shields clacking together as people scrimmage, training, sparring, hoping to be better.

But, even with the knight in Rowan’s mind yelling, she passes by, going deeper along the path, past the muttering mage who flinches at the sight of her and past the abandoned cabin, until she reaches a small clearing, full of half-cut trees, felled logs and lumberjacks tools.

Here is where she stops, perching on one of the logs where a seat has been carved out, and she lets the tears run again.

Each feeling that she pushed down, each memory that someone reminded her of, every time one of her soulmates wouldn't look at her came flooding back all at once, making her choke on the overwhelming feelings washing over her. The first sob comes and she can't seem to stop.

She doesn't know how long she sits in this abandoned lumber site, crying until she feels hollow and tired. She wants to lie down in the snow and watch the sky, watching the green over take the blue and-

“Now, now, a pretty thing like you shouldn't be crying so much” A voice startles her from the spiral her mind is going down and she looks up, eyes dry in the worst way to see a man standing at the entrance of the logging site. "What's wrong darling?"

He’s tall, taller than even Cassandra, with a slim build and a friendly smile. The waves of his nut-brown hair are tied back just enough to be out of his face, but linger around his shoulders in a tangle. She can see a symbol of a strange broken circle on his robes, and the sight of a staff in his hand is familiar.

_ ‘A mage’ _ Her mind whispers. ‘ _ But why is he here?’ _

He walks a bit closer and Rowan resists flinching away from him, instead letting the same spark she feels in him fill her chest. A raised brow and a laugh is all she gets for that, and Rowan frowns at him, a bit upset.

“Why are you laughing?” She rasps and winces at how rough her voice is. The mage before her trails off in his chuckles and kneels at her feet, staff still at hand. 

“I'm laughing because a little girl with no training is trying to incinerate me where I stand after I asked her what's wrong. Brings back fond memories, I must say” The mage looked her over, and Rowan was suddenly hit by a wave of self-consciousness as she realized what a mess she must look, ruddy-cheeked from crying and flame-colored curls around her in a mess. She made to curl into the shawl on her shoulders before a hand on her cheek stopped her turning away from the man.

“Hey, don't be scared” He said, suddenly very serious. “I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear”

“How do I know that? I don't even know your name  _ Sir Mage _ ” Rowan sniped back and bit her lip when he only pulled his hand away instead of getting angry.

“I suppose that's a valid point. My names Cameron. And yours, little miss?”

“Rowan” She looks into his face to see if he recognizes the name, but it stays as still and serene as before. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask the same thing of you Miss Rowan" Cameron's voice becomes chiding for a moment, but the softness in his eyes doesn't fade. "What happened to make a girl like you cry her eyes out where no one can see?"

"I'll answer yours if you answer mine" Rowan bargains and Cameron's smile comes back, looking soft. 

"That's a girl. I'm out getting some supplies for the blacksmith. He needed some iron, and I was happy to oblige" Cameron turns a bit and now Rowan can see that the strange lines on his shoulders were straps, holding up a hand-stitched pull string backpack. It's lumpy and sags enough that it's clearly very heavy. 

Rowan says as much but the older mage just shakes his head, shrugging. "I've carried more, trust me. Now, I told mine, it's your turn now"

"My soulmates are idiots" Rowan states bluntly and Cameron winces. "They thought that my Bond with them would be bad for public image and want to give me a decoy, meanwhile none of them are acknowledging the Bond between us."

"I'd say I know how that feels little miss, but I'm afraid I have no place in that world" Cameron shifts himself, going from kneeling at Rowans feet, to sitting next to her and looking at the sky. Rowans brow furrows as she inspects him, curious to his words. 

"What do you mean?"

"I'm Markless. Always have been, always will be. Sign of a rascal you know? Promiscuous, unattached-"

"Not told that it's the end? Given freedom to do what you want?" Rowan shoots back and Cameron gives her a surprised look. "I'm on the opposite of you I suppose. I've got fourteen, met 6, and so far have none to actually Bond with" Her eyes get distant and Cameron can see the pain in them, bloodshot as they are.

"Sounds...busy"

Rowans shrug is a fluid, halfhearted thing. "It used to be just lonely. I didn't have any of them, then I met sa few and I still don't have them."

The mage beside her hums and in a gesture of understanding, slings his arm over her shoulders. He can feel her tense, and is about to pull back when she leans into him, tucking her head under his chin.

"Your soulmates  _ are _ idiots if they can't see how lucky they are" He says off hand. "Even as a cried out ragamuffin, you're still sweet-looking and I know I'd kill to see that smile I know is hidden away"

Rowan huffed against his shoulder. “You and maybe two others” She sighs and looks back up to the sky, to the Breach breaking the horizon. “I just want peace”

“Peace has long since been lost little miss. Thedas has been at war with itself for centuries, and that doesn't look like it's gonna change anytime soon” Cameron's gaze joins hers on the Breach. “Even Andraste's Herald might not be able to stop all wars”

“You know?” Rowan pulls a little bit away from him at this and Cameron raises a brow as he looks at her, and the slight furrow in her brows. 

“Not many young women have that bearing, and even less have a wooden leg to go along with it” He informs her and taps her fake knee. “Nothing wrong with it per se, but it's rare in these parts. Most would have gone for something enchanted.”

“I don't know how to enchant” Rowan shoots back, squirming into a better position on the log. “I've only had magic for a few days. It's not exactly easy to learn how to use it when you go from prisoner to coma”

Cameron’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at this tidbit of information. “A few days? You're way too old to have gotten your magic so late”

“Gee, thanks” Rowan deadpans and the older mage shakes his head, hair ruffling with the movement.

“Not like that darling. I mean that most mages have their magic brought out during puberty. To have it so late... It begs the question of  _ why _ ”

Rowan uncurls her hand from the edge of her shawl and presents the glowing, hissing wound in her palm, and the slim tendrils of green that spread to the base of her fingers. “This a good enough reason?”

Cameron hums lightly and takes her offered hand, allowing her to feel the calluses on his hands and the warmth of him that bleeds over. His thumb brushes over the glittering, spitting wound in a moment of soft curiosity. “Perhaps. Does it hurt?”

A huff comes from the girl as she takes her hand back slowly, rubbing along the base of her palm. “Only always. It's more of an ache now that the Breach isnt spreading anymore, but it still acts up every once in while. It seems to respond to my emotions, which is a gigantic pain in the ass.”

“I would imagine” Cameron says and shakes his head. There is a moment of silence between them as Rowan rubs at the edges of her Mark while Cameron quietly watches her, mind racing. “You said your soulmates had an issue with how many there were?”

“Lady Montilyet thinks that it will be fodder for the Chantry to invalidate the Inquisition” Rowan says and grits her teeth a bit. Cameron can see the Mark flare for a moment before it peters out when her jaw relaxes. “They want me to act like none of them are mine and act like i'm in love with someone else, as some sort of decoy Soulmate.”   


“Have you picked anyone?”

Rowan snorts quietly. “Yeah, no. I stormed out of the room after they started arguing about who wanted what without asking me” Rowan shakes her head and Cameron brings out a cloth from his belt, clean and mended carefully. A bit of snow later and he reaches for her slowly, allowing her to pull away if she wants.

But she stays still, if a little confused as he begins to wipe the tear-tracks from her face, and Rowan can see his eyes are hazel, bright and intent on her face as he pulls away. Then, to her surprise, he kneels at her feet and holds her hand, gaze somehow more intense than before.

“What if I said you could use me as that decoy?” He says, utterly serious and Rowan sputters.

“What? Did you not hear-”

“Oh, I heard and it seems like you are stuck either way. Either you pick someone or they do. Why not pick someone who can help you get them back?” Cameron suggests and Rowan’s eyes narrow.

“What do you mean, get them back?

Cameron's face split into a wide, devious smile. “We make them jealous. If they pick, they'll know that there's nothing between you, because they'll pick a random scout or soldier to be your bodyguard. But if you choose someone like me, we can act like we’re in love in front of them and make them jealous. Might speed things up and make them realize what idiots they are being”

Rowan stared at the older mage for a long silent moment, green eyes wide.

“You're bonkers” She breathed and then Cameron was treated to the brightest smile he’d ever seen, as Rowan’s face erupted into a grin. “ _ I love it _ ”

Cameron began to laugh and after a moment, Rowan joined him, their laughter echoing in the clearing. 

“Well soulmate, how shall we do this?” He asked and got up from where he had knelt, offering his hand to help her up. She took it glady and allowed him to pull her to her feet, eyes determined.

“Do you want to lead, or shall I?” She asked as they quietly began to walk back to Haven proper, arms linked. Cameron hummed as they watched the field of soldiers come into view, two familiar figures amongst them that rushed over as soon as they spotted the pair.

“Ill let you lead, I think” He whispered as Cassandra and Cullen came up, the former-Templar’s color draining as he saw who Rowan was with.

“Commander, Seeker” Rowan greeted, setting her head on Cameron's shoulder. “I'd like you to meet my Decoy. Cameron, these are my advisers. Advisers, this is-”

“We know each other” Cullen butted in, eyes fixed onto Cameron's face. “Enchanter Amell, I didn't know you were in Haven”

Cameron hummed lightly, patting Rowan’s hand absently. “My sister needed somewhere a bit more stable, as you know very well” The phrase made Cullen flinch a bit but Cameron instead turned to Rowan, beginning to explain. “Commander Rutherford was a Templar during my stay in Kinloch circle. He was a favorite of my sister and I.”

Rowan, finding she liked the flush to Cullen’s cheeks, decided to smile up at Cameron. “I'm glad. I hope this means you'll work together alright?”

“For you? I'll try my best” Cameron drawled and winked at her. The warriors watched slightly shocked as Rowan giggled, a sound new to the both of them. 

“Well, I'm afraid I've had enough excitement for today, and I'd quite like to get out of the snow” Rowan informed her real Soulmates, smiling lightly. “Well finish this morning's meeting tomorrow, alright? Awesome!”

Without any room for Cullen and Cassandra to interrupt, the mages began to walk away, looking happy as can be as Cameron informed Rowan that, yes, he could help her get a bath and was all too happy to scrub her back if she wished.

The two warrior’s watched them enter into Haven proper and slowly, Cassandra turned to Cullen, whose pale face said more than he was letting on.

“You know him” She stated and Cullen flinched, his hand coming up to rub his neck in a now-familiar gesture. 

“An understatement. Him and his sister were two of my charges in Kinloch. Mage Surana became Tranquil after an incident with a blood mage and Enchanter Amell never quite forgave me for helping with it” Cullen looked grim at his statement and Cassandra grimaced in understanding. 

“And where was he during the incident?”

“He was going through his own Harrowing. Surana had just finished her own but due to circumstances...” Cullen swallowed hard and shook his head, heading back to the training fields in order to get his men back in line. “The First Enchanter loved her as a daughter and did not want her in Aeonar. It was supposed to be a mercy.” His last words were whispered and Cassandra shook her head, going to her training dummies to get some of her anger out.

They did not speak again that day.

_____________________________________________________________

“You have so many freckles darling” Cameron remarked as he watched the younger woman scrub her shoulders in her tub. “One might wonder how many Wisps you’ve absorbed.”

Rowan gave him a look beneath her slowly drying curls, the tangle of them wild and still fuzzy with steam. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Have you never heard that saying? It's an old wives tale that if you have freckles, the amount is equal to how many Wisps you've encountered in the Fade and eaten” Cameron grabbed his washcloth from the nearby table and began to scrub at his shins and ankles where the most dirt had collected. 

Rowan gave a little hum as she moved onto her own leg, roughly moving over the slow-growing stubble on it and frowning, “It was always how many souls you’d taken for where I was from. I kinda like yours better to be honest. It's a bit nicer.”

With once last rinse, Cameron stood up from his tub and ruffled his hair with his drying cloth before draping it around his waist, showing off his scars and burns on his torso and arms. “Yes well, don't think I won't be teasing you about yours my dear. Shall I help you out of that tub before you become a prune?”

“Ugh, please. This bath water is disgusting” Rowan grabbed onto the older mage was he offered his arms, balancing carefully on her leg as they maneuvered her out of the low tub. “People really don't build tubs here for people missing limbs here do they?” Cameron helped her over to one of the benches and handed her another drying cloth, allowing her to dry herself as he grabbed her leg and the shift they had grabbed from the spares in the bath-house. 

As he helped her up and she went to slip the shift on, he caught sight of the Mark on her lower back and grabbed the shift before it fell over it. “Wait!”

Rowan made a small noise as she wobbled and looked over at her shoulder at him, frowning. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No, not wrong I think” Looking closer, he traced his fingers over the butter-yellow and grass-green wisps that surrounded the silver lettering. “It's just- this Mark has embellishments”

“What!?” Rowan tried to contort her body to look and nearly fell over in the process until Cameron steadied her and let the shift fall. “But- I haven't met them yet. How can the Mark be embellished?”

“Who knows?” Cameron slipped on his own clothes, having only joined her to make it so she wasnt the only one naked in front of a stranger. “Marks are a strange thing”

“You're telling me” The young woman muttered as he helped her put on her leg again. “What God was in charge when they decided to give me mine?”

“Well, the Dalish have a deity called Fen’Harel. Apparently he's some sort of Trickster god. Maybe him?” Cameron suggested as the two bundled up their old clothes as they made to leave. 

Rowan laughed as the door opened, making a few people look up, away and then back as the previously crying girl emerged from the bathhouse looking happy and healthy. “I think that seems right. If anyone asks, Fen’Harel gave me my soulmarks”

Cameron joins her in laughing, slinging an arm around her hips as they walk back to her cabin. “Done. Can't wait for someone to overhear  _ that _ little tidbit.”

“What tidbit would that be?” A cool voice spoke up from behind them and the pair turned to see the last two of Rowan’s soulmates, Solas staring stonily at Cameron and the hand lingering on Rowan’s hip. 

“That Fen’Harel gave me my Soulmarks!” Rowan replied a bit too cheerfully and blinked when Solas made a choking noise. “Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

“Well, Mage Solas is an elf Roe” Cameron hugged her a bit closer at the look he got from Varric and Solas, the older men a bit heated about his being close to the girl. “Maybe he was raised Dalish?”

“I was not raised Dalish Ser Mage” Solas answered and shook his head. “It was simply unexpected to hear our Herald saying” 

Rowan’s smile flickered at the use of the title and Cameron felt her tense a bit. “Of course. Ones savior mustn’t joke about such things then?” Her tone was as friendly as before but the three men could hear the sudden ice in the undertone. Luckily Varric knew how to read the crowd and shook his head.

“More like Fen’Harel isn’t a well-liked deity amongst the Dalish and his unmentionables tend to be the source of their curse words” Varric answered smoothly. “An old friend of mine told me a couple stories about the guy and he didn't seem like the ‘lovey-dovey’ type either”

Blinking, Rowan frowned a little bit and sighed. “Thats fair I suppose” She muttered and looked properly at the two of them. “It's good to see you both are safe. I didn't see you at the meeting this morning and I wondered...”

“Seeker didn't want us around for when she dumped politics on you” Varric motioned for the four of them to begin walking again, Varric taking Rowan’s side while Solas took Cameron’s. “Neither of us are big on them and thought too many people might be a bad thing. From what I can tell, bad things might have happened anyway?” His golden eyes met Rowan’s own and she winced, biting her lip.

“It would be better to talk about it in private” She whispered aside to him, looking around that people watching the group. “We were heading for my cabin if you want to join us”

“I think that might be a fair idea” Solas responded, nodding as they arrived at the door. Rowan sighed when she saw that there was a pile of tiny objects on the steps into her hut and carefully stepped around them as she opened the door, happy to find it was empty and the bottle of whiskey she had asked for was on her bed-side table. 

Cameron busied himself finding places for the others to sit, taking the desk chair for himself, while Varric took a seat on the low chest and Solas stayed standing, leaning against the cabin wall. Rowan, however, immediately grabbed the whiskey and the provided glass, poured two fingers and shot the thing back like cheap vodka.

“That bad Thunder?” Varric questioned as she poured herself another and sat down on the bed.

“That bad” Rowan sighed, ignoring the look Cameron gave the bottle and quietly went though the events of the morning between sips of the burning gold liquid.

“-Then Cameron suggested to be my public soulmate and we went back to Haven” She finished and looked up at the room. Varric was scowling lightly, his brow furrowed deeply while Solas’ stood stone still, the only indication of his emotions begin the tenseness in his shoulders and the much slighter furrow above his nose. 

“That's quite a morning Thunder” Varric was the first to speak and she watched as his hands slid over his face in agitation. “What the fuck were they thinking?”

“Politics is difficult in itself Master Tethras” Solas said from where he stood. “The Game is another beast entirely. Perhaps it is not a horrible idea?” 

Rowan glared at him from where she sat on the bed.

“Or perhaps it is?” He amended and Rowan sighed lightly, putting down her drink and shoving her head in her hands.

“It probably wouldn't be such a bad idea normally, but the way they presented it was...unkind. After two of them deciding that they don't want to be in a relationship, another two making the decision after meeting me for the first time and the last two of my soulmates not even being there for it, it was a bit hard to take and after everything happening during the last few days, I just- couldn't take it.” A shuddering sigh escaped her, and Cameron winced.

“It's an honest reaction” Solas came off the wall slowly, and walked over to the girl, perching lightly next to her. “Stress can cause a myriad of reactions. Your reaction is no less valid than any others”

Rowan huffed and looked up into the room, eyes half-lidded and tired looking. “Thanks Solas. I appreciate it. But I think tomorrow is gonna be more conversation regarding it and I should probably sleep.” 

Varric stood, Cameron and Solas following him. “Get some sleep Thunder. We’ll talk tomorrow after your meeting. I'll even buy the first drink” He cajoled, and patted her shoulder. Cameron ruffled her hair quietly and followed the other two men out of the room, leaving Rowan alone in the little cabin, the whiskey on the table taunting her. 

Sighing, the young woman leaned back in her bed, pulling one of the three pillows on the bed over her face. 

“Tomorrow is going to suck” She mumbled into her pillow and rolled over, tucking the pillow to her chest. She stared lightly at the desk where some clothes had been set out for her. “Maybe they’ll let me bring the whiskey?”

Snuggling into the pillows and bringing the heavy covers over her body, Rowan settled in and let the energy she had been holding onto wane, her eyes slipping shut.

Within moments, her body relaxed and she was in the Fade, Pragma waiting with a smile and tonight's deal.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stratagem: A plan or scheme, especially one used to outwit an opponent or achieve an end.


	7. Adamantine

Waking up in Haven on her second day as Herald was a bit calmer than the previous one had been. She was a warm blanket burrito, and while she could hear quiet talking, the voices were mostly familiar and she didn't actually care much about the topic. 

“Look now, our girl is waking up” The male voice said, and she could hear soft feet making their way across the room. “Wake up darling. You have quite a day ahead of you”

Peeking out over the hem of her blankets, Rowan caught sight of Cameron leaning over her bed, smiling softly. In his hands, she could see something steaming in an earthenware cup. Her eyes narrowed at it and Cameron’s smile widened as he wiggled the cup, seeing her interest.

“It's just tea from Adan, but if you get up, I may be able to swing something not so bitter later on” He bargained and Rowan narrowed her eyes.

“More of that stuff from yesterday?” She rasped, voice rough from sleep, as she sat up in the cup and took the cup. Cameron nodded, turning away and Rowan could see him pick up a bowl from a tray on her cabins’s desk, while Athras stood by with the matching bowl, eating it quietly.

“The same. He wants you to drink it for the next few days, make sure your recuperating correctly.” The older mage placed the bowl on Rowan’s side table, showing bland-looking oatmeal. 

“Oatmeal? Please tell me you have something to put in it?” Rowan eyed the food warily and drank the rest of the bitter tea. But, to her horror, Cameron shook his head as he began to eat his own. 

“Nope, your Healer said no food that might make you sick. It was bad enough you didn't eat anything yesterday, but Talan was a little pissed when he found out no-one bothered to tell him you got in a serious argument and went out into the snow with nothing but your nightgown and a shawl on.” Cameron gave Rowan a look as she played with her food, making the woman wince and slowly eat the bland mush. 

“Talan?” She asked between a bite of oatmeal. “Who’s he?”

“One of your Healers. He, along with Solas and Adan, were the ones to take care of you during your ‘rest’. Adan did the medicine, Solas did the magic and Talan did the healing. He’ll probably want to follow up on your injuries and make sure that you're not having any side-effects.” After finishing his bowl, Cameron motioned to a small stack of clothes on the chair. “Your Isana set out some clothes for you before she left. Warm things that you won't have any trouble moving in.”

Nodding, Rowan swallowed the last of her breakfast and motioned for the clothes to be passed over. Uncaring of the two others in the room, she quickly stripped off her shirt, only to hear a quiet noise from Athras. Looking up, she saw that the woman was blushing and trying to cover Cameron’s eyes, who was also looking away.

“Athras, it's fine. He wouldn't be the first man to see me naked. Besides, we bathed together yesterday” Rowan informed her and fiddled with the hooks on the breast band, thanking her teacher that he had taught her history along with everything else when she became part of the troupe. 

“Herald, do you not have modesty?” Athras hissed, quietly shocked by her manners. She had looked and acted like a noble from the beginning, but Athras was slowly seeing that her first impression had been very incorrect.

Rowan snorted and worked on putting on the rest of the warm clothes, her leg included. “At this point, modesty is useless. Working with men and women in closed quarters with costume changes for a few years will do that to you. Now, you said I’m busy today? I'm assuming my meeting with my advisers is a priority?”

“Correct. If you’re ready, I’d say it's safe to go. They’re in the same room in the Chantry as yesterday, so there isn't much change” Cameron informed her and grabbed a small satchel from the corner of the room. “After thats done, we’re going to meet Master Solas and Master Tethras in the Singing Maiden. Now, I have to be off. Sis is waiting for me” The mage ruffled her still messy hair and walked out of the cabin quickly, making Rowan fuss with her curls, deciding to tie it back in a braid. 

“How long did the two of you wait for me to wake up?” She asked Athras, who was sitting quietly on her own cot. 

“Not long” The elf said and yawned widely, tears in the corners of her eyes. “Are you ready?”

Rowan looked around and grabbed a random book from the shelf, trying to grab something to read just in case she has to wait or gets bored while the other four argue. She doesn't bother looking at the cover, knowing she’s never read it before and tucks the book under her arm.

The two of them set out for the Chantry. 

Athras is as quiet as usual, but Rowan finds that even though the elf is silent, the lack of talking is comfortable instead of stifling. Rowan herself doesn't bother chattering, finding that the sun being barely over the mountain is too early, and with a distinct lack of caffeine in her system, Rowan feels a bit more tired than normal.

It seemed the trade off for being in a coma for three days was her not having to go through caffeine withdrawal, a trade Rowan wasn't quite happy with, but such is life.

The people wandering around were more cautious than the day before, though Rowan couldn't tell if it was because of the crying from yesterday, or the way that Athras guarded her, closely and glaring at anyone who made a move towards her that wasnt familiar. The elf made the scared, cautious thing in Rowan’s chest loosen, and by the time they were at the doors to the Chantry, Rowan was prepared for a day long meeting with four people who may or may not hurt her even more. There was something in her eyes that Rowan recognized and the younger woman smiled at her.

"Be careful in there Your Worship" Athras murmurs as they arrive at the door Rowan had stormed through the day before. "Be sure to come and get me if I am needed."

“I will Athras, thank you” Rowan reached out and squeezed the elf’s forearm, trying to convey the sincerity of her words. The small smile Athras gave her showed that the woman took her words to heart, and with a bow, Athras was walking away.

The wooden door was heavy as Rowan pushed it open, finding it surprisingly empty. The map spread out on the table is the clear center and Rowan placed her book on one of the chairs next to the door. The hand-drawn and inked map was rough under her questing fingers as she traced the lines of it, finding the borders between countries and reading the names of seemingly important cities Rowan had never heard of.

But what really interested her were the markers. 

Each piece made of solid metal, tucked gently into the four corners of the table. One was a raven, wings spread and head tilted back in a cry. Then, a sword embedded in stone and a quill and ink pot, each in intricate detail. The last was a pyramid made of green metal, the eye of the Inquisition stamped into each side and firmly placed between the countries of Ferelden and Orlais, in the mountains. Gently nudging it, she read the name of the town it was centered in and figured that perhaps this was a marker made for her, as the marker was firmly centered in Haven and it didn't seem like the Breach was going to move anytime soon. 

She spent the next few minutes looking over the map and all the city names that had been written down. A quick search of the room yielded a piece of paper and a charcoal stick, letting Rowan write down a few things that she had questions on, namely why Orlais seemed to be French-themed and why Lake Calenhad looked a little bit like a bunny. 

The notes, which was really more like a sheet of questions, were set aside quietly when several minutes had passed and her little council was nowhere to be found. So, in true Rowan form, she cracked open the book she had brought with her and quickly found herself reading about nuances and such in what passed for etiquette in this place. By the time she had read through both Ferelden and Antiva and was currently sloughing through Orlais, the door to the room opened to admit Leliana and Josephine, the two older women quietly discussing something that made Josephine smile.

“Good morning” Rowan greeted them quietly and watched as Josephine jumped, startled by the sudden unknown voice. The two women turned to the girl in the chair, surprised to see her waiting patiently. “Apologies Lady Montilyet, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

The tanned woman looked at Rowan for a very long moment before nodding quietly. “Yes, i'm fine, thank you. What are you doing here so early? Did Isana not pass on that your part of the meeting was later in the day?”

Rowan glanced at Leliana, who also seemed impassive to the situation and was silently fixing a pot of something on the far wall. “No, she didn't. Athras was my morning guard and Cameron didn't say anything other than I would be busy today. Should I leave?”

“No. You should stay, as the entirety of today involves you anyway” Leliana said as she finished the prep for the pot. “Either way, you'll be finding out and this prevents us from having to explain later.” She placed the steaming pot on a tray after pouring three cups of it out, handing one to Josephine and walking around to offer another to Rowan. She was graced with a smile as Rowan took the cup from her hand and sipped without suspicion.

“Thank you. Now, is what involves me good or bad? From what I heard yesterday, I'm assuming the latter.” Rowan slipped the ribbon attached to the spine of her book in between her current pages and closed it, placing it beside her as she sipped on the tea, finding it a bit better than this mornings brew. 

“Unfortunately” Josephine agreed. Her face didn't suit the somber look that had come across it and Rowan’s hand tightened a bit on her cup as she felt a wave of want run over her. “It would be best to wait for the others, but I can tell you that the subjects we will be discussing are not pleasant ones, as is the norm in times of war and revolution.”

Nodding, Rowan didn't push further as she drank from her cup, letting the room lapse into silence. Leliana and Josephine exchanged glances and quiet words every once in a while as Rowan stared at the map, letting her thoughts wander about. 

The next person to come into the room was the Commander, his shoulders slightly slumped and Rowan frowned at the dark shade beneath his eyes, her concerned nature winning over her anger at the man from the day before. 

“Good morning Commander” She said, softer than she had with Josephine and Leliana. The man didn't jump as Josephine had, but his reaction was more worrying as her slid his shadowed eyes to her and only nodded without speaking. A cup from Leliana was taken with two hands and Rowan’s concern deepened when she noticed the light shaking in them. But, she kept quiet, unsure of how to approach the clear unease the man carried. 

His drinking of the cup was slower than her own, and while the shaking subsided quickly, there was still something in his eyes that Rowan didn't like. Putting it aside, she looked to Leliana and held up her reading material. 

“Sister Leliana, I was wondering about the customs in this place and was curious as to whether Haven was in Ferelden or Orlais. We seem to be in the middle and I am unsure of which customs to use.” 

The older woman raised a brow but looked approving as she scanned the cover. “ Although a man from Orlais owns the land, The Divine was the one to bring it into the fold of the Chantry. As such, Haven is now full of many different people, from all ways of life Herald, and only one custom is unfortunately not enough. I would pay close attention to the accent and mannerisms of the person you are interacting with and act accordingly. Josephine will be aiding in this during your lessons while you are in Haven.”

“How well are you at reading Your Worship? It seems you are a good way into that book, and would I be correct if I was under the impression you didn't have it yesterday?” Josephine looks interested in Rowan’s choice and the girl finds herself nodding without wincing at the title use. 

“I can normally read at least 300 pages per day, if given time alone. But actually being able to process the content takes time, and I prefer to take notes if need be” Rowan replied easily and Josephine's eyes lit up. About to push further in Rowan’s education and past, she was interrupted by the last of Rowan’s soulmates arriving, Cassandra holding a tray of small rolls and a pot of jam as she entered the room.

The Seeker’s eyes met Rowan’s own before quickly flickering to Leliana. “Have you all been waiting long?”

“A bit, but only due to the Herald having arrived much earlier than the rest of us” Leliana took the tray from the other woman and placed it gently beside the tea tray before pressing one into Cullen’s hand. Cassandra’s eyes went back to the girl in question as the others divvied up the food. 

“Athras brought me” Rowan said in the way of an explanation. “Said that my day would be busy, but didn't elaborate very well about times and such. Sister Leliana and Lady Montilyet thought it would be best for me to stay anyway, since the content of the meeting involves me”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed a bit, but she nodded all the same and Rowan watched as the four of her soulmates quietly picked up tokens and began their talks. It soon became apparent to Rowan that there were two sides the situation she found herself in. 

“The Templars could suppress the magic of the Breach!” Cullen said, for it seemed the third time. “The Mages have only done more damage and need corralling in order for order to be restored. Bringing them into the fold would only upset the balance more”

“The Mages did what they had to Commander” Leliana fought back as the voice of the other side. “Yes, Anders was wrong to do what he did, but the Templars have abused their power for too long and the Mages were right to dissolve the Circles. Having them close the Breach and become allies would help them get back on their feet-”

“Allies!? Are you joking? There would be abominations-”

“It's a chance we have to take-”

“Blood mages!”

“Rapists!”

“Enough, both of you!” Josephine cut in, making the two arguing parties look at her and stop talking at once. The two looked a bit cowed when she pointed to Rowan, whose face was blanker than parchment, save for the twitch of her brow. “Neither party will speak with us at the moment, so it's useless trying to determine which to aid us. What we need to focus on is getting support in order for us to have a meeting. Right now, the Herald is a myth at best and a pariah at worst. In order for us to stay stable, we need the people of Thedas to take us seriously.”

“And how do you expect us to do so Lady Montilyet?” Cassandra asked from where she leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on the noble woman, who shuffled the papers in front of her and motioned to the map. 

“The Rifts. Currently we have reports from many people across Thedas citing that they have seen Rifts and demons in the areas and are currently worried for their safety. There is a Mother in the Hinterland crossroad that is requesting an audience with the Herald. If we can help close Rifts and stabilize the area after, we may be able to gain a small foothold in order to establish ourselves as a force of aid.” Josephine took one of her small quill markers and placed with gently on the map, leading Rowan to lean forward to read that the marker was placed near Redcliffe.

“This Mother, is she trustworthy? Can we ensure the Herald will not be harmed during this meeting?” Cassandra asked, looking at the marker as well. Leliana hummed lightly and took one of the papers from the pile in Josephine's hands, reading it over quietly. 

“It is Mother Giselle. While she is not necessarily trust-worthy, I do not believe she wishes the Herald harm. To have her aid and support would help us immensely.” Leliana handed the paper over to Cassandra, whose brow didn't cease creasing but after a moment she nodded, handing it to Cullen. 

“Her bodyguards will not be enough to accompany her to such a place” He said and his eyes went to the woman in question and he resisted a flinch when he saw that her eyes were pinning him down, a challenge lingering in her green eyes. 

“I will go with her as well” Cassandra volunteered, pushing off the wall. “Due to her lack of skill with magic, Solas will need to be along as well. Varric would be useful in an interpersonal manner, and would help us if there are any conflicts arising from arguments. Along with Lavellan and Cadash, Healer Adaar and Enchanter Trevelyan would be useful as a side team, ensuring her education would be varied.”

“Lack of skill?” Josephine questioned and looked to address Rowan for the first time since the arguing started. “Were you never taught properly when you were in the Circle? Speaking of, we have not discussed your origins. Your accent is not familiar either”

“Agreed” Leliana fixed her gaze to the younger woman, who had gone tense. “We know virtually nothing about you, save for that you are a mage and are clearly far from home.”

A dark chuckle came from Rowan and she stood quietly, bracing herself against the chair. “Far from home? I'm afraid that is a bit of an understatement” She sighed deeply and took up the charcoal she had grabbed earlier, fiddling with the stick between her hands.

“How so?” Josephine pushed, brow furrowed and coming a bit closer. Only Leliana noticed the tension in her shoulders tightening when the older woman came closer. 

“I-I am not from here” Rowan started and Cullen snorted quietly.

“That much is clear” He muttered and Rowan glared at him, jaw tightening slightly. 

“I _mean_ I am not from Thedas. As of nearly a week ago, I didn't even know it existed, let alone magic, elves, dwarves and your Chantry.”

A small noise came from Cassandra, and she rounded on Rowan. “We have no time for games Herald. If you do not wish to-”

“I do wish to!” Rowan snapped back and Cassandra winced at the noise. “Listen me, for once in your goddamn lives” She hissed, and looked at all of them.

“I am not from Thedas. I was born in a place called Earth, in a country called the United States of America. I drew my first breath in a hospital mere miles away from the ocean in a huge, sprawling city called Seattle. None of those names mean anything to any of you, but they mean _everything_ to me.” She placed a shaking hand on the table and her soulmates could see the color leaving her knuckles as they pressed against the heavy oak. “I lived a life beyond this. I had a family, a home. A job I loved and enough experience in it that I was picked to train the new people brought in. I was _happy_. And for some gods-forsaken reason, I was brought here.”

Her head lifted from where she had been hovering over the map, and she looked each of them in the eye, face set in a mask of frustration and sorrow. “I was brought here, unknowing and unconsenting, to a place filled with people who wanted me dead, and found myself seeing my soulmates at their worst, in the middle of battle and hating my very being. So, when I say ‘far from home’ is an understatement, I mean it to my very core. This is _not_ my home and I am scared everyday that I am here that I will not be able to get back to the place that is.”

The room was silent for a very long, still moment before Leliana broke the oppressive quiet. “Do you want to go back?” She asked, something in her eyes that Rowan couldn't understand.

Rowan sighed as she shook her head and buried it in her hands, uncaring of the charcoal on her fingers. 

“I don't know Leliana. I really don't.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adamantine: Unable to be broken


	8. Causerie

After Rowan’s monologue and subsequent revelation, the room was somber in a way that it hadn't been since Justina had been first announced to be dead. Deciding to take a moment, Josephine called for food via a servant, allowing them all to eat and think about Rowan’s words. 

The fare from the mess hall was simple, a druffalo stew and day-old bread, but it was filling. However, Rowan’s companions found out quickly that Rowan was not up to full speed and health, as the servant handed the young woman a bowl of broth and fresher, plain bread, along with a small vial of green liquid.

“Healer Talan says you must take this with food Your Worship. It tastes best if you mix it with tea, but you can take it alone if need be” The maid informed her and was treated with a small smile from the girl.

“Thank you. Tell Talan I look forward to finally meeting him when he has time” She responded, taking the vial. The servant blushed a bit and curtsied before leaving the room in a hurry, her tray tucked beneath one arm.

“Your Healer still has you taking medicine?” Josephine asked, looking concerned as Rowan poured the vial into her luke-warm tea and began sipping. The nod she got was distracted, Rowan’s nose crinkling a little bit at the taste of her tea.

“I'm mostly alright, but Talan is concerned about my recovery. With the stress of yesterday and the fact that I didn't really eat anything except about four fingers of whiskey, he’s taking all precautions” She explained and blatantly ignored the look she got from Leliana for mentioning the whiskey, but the room allowed itself to lapse into silence as they ate and drank, the atmosphere becoming slowly less intense.

By the time they had all ate and drank their fill, Rowan was noticeably less tense, although her gaze seemed far away as she gently rotated her cup in her hands, staring blankly at the map. 

Surprisingly enough, Cullen was the one to break the silence, clearing his throat to finally inquire about Rowan’s past.

“You said that you had a family” He began tentatively, making Rowan twitch and look up. She blinked slowly and nodded, a small but sad smile on her face.

“I did. Three sisters, an older brother, and our mom. I’m the third child, second daughter.” She said quietly, a spark coming back into her eyes. “Nathan is the oldest and Ivy is the youngest. We all live in the same complex since Ivy and Poppy are still in school. Nate, Poppy and I all worked at the Theater together, with Nate as a Bard and Poppy as my Squire.”

“Bard? Squire? I thought you worked in a Theater” Josephine inquired, curious. She also noticed Leliana looking interested at the mention of a Bard, the older red-head leaning forwards a bit. 

“We did. I don't think you all have a word for it, but it was called a Renaissance Faire, or Ren-Fair for short. I’d been with the troupe for years now and had trained with one of the former Black Knights. He gave me his old position, along with another role and let me take over as the trainer for new knights” Rowan’s smile got a bit bigger, her face looking legitimately happy for once. Cullen made a quiet choking noise and looked a little shaken.

“How realistic was your acting?” He asked and Rowan gave him a sly smile.

“Realistic enough that I can use your sword to defend myself against at least ten of your soldiers. Add in a few years of experience and you tell me” 

“So, when you requested the sword to carry instead of a staff when we were journeying to the Breach, you knew how to use it?” Cassandra looked at her a little shocked. “But you're a mage-”

“I wasn't a week ago, and my past dictates my actions more than my present” Rowan drawled, finally standing up and stretching a bit. “Now, you said we’re going after this Mother and I'm assuming that we are going to have to keep my world-traveling a secret. What do I need to know and how quick can I learn it?”

Acknowledging the change of subject, Leliana motioned over to Josephine. “Lady Montilyet will be able to teach you what is needed in manners and how to deal with the more politically based individuals you will be facing. As for religion, geography and general education, since you are literate, we can supply some books for you to read. Is there anything else you can think of that you might need?”

“Not off the top of my head? Other than magic lessons and general sparring, that should cover it.” Rowan mused, chewing her lip. 

“Magic lessons have already been discussed with Solas. The addition of Enchanter Amell will be useful as he is a Circle mage and can teach you about the situation there” Leliana responded and poured herself another cup of tea. “As for sparring, I'm sure that Cassandra and Cullen would be happy to test your prowess with a sword” The Spymaster motioned to the two warriors, who gave her strange looks for the suggestion.

But neither said anything when Rowan smiled at them, soft and hopeful. “That sounds good. It would be nice to spar with someone again who I don't have to take it easy on”

“Well, that settled and a plan made, I think we should get on with our days. I know the Herald must be tired and would probably like to spend some time alone?” Josephine suggested, a bit of concern threading her voice. Nodding, Rowan gathered her book from her chair, tucking it along her side carefully. 

“That sounds like a good plan. When shall we meet for lessons?” 

“Well, I was thinking about starting today, but we can reschedule it to tomorrow if you would prefer” Josephine suggested.

Rowan thought for a moment before shaking her head. “How about we both meet back here in, like, two hours? I'll be a bit more rested by then and I’ll be able to read a little beforehand so I don't go in blind. I'm meeting with Cameron, Varric, and Solas later at the Singing Maiden if you’d like to join us after” Rowan suggested, raising a brow.

“Is drinking wise? You are still recovering” Leliana cut in, remembering her remark about the whiskey. 

Rowan shook her head a bit. “I won't be drinking really. The whiskey was a spur of the moment thing, and I have a feeling Cameron is going to sic my Healer on me if I don't take it easy. Either him or Solas” 

“I would be happy to join you later Herald,” Josephine said, smiling a bit. “Meet me at the office just outside this room on the left in two hours. Be prepared to learn”

“I will be” Rowan gave a parting wave of her hand as she left the room, the other’s watching her leave somewhat subdued.

“Intelligent enough for Orlais, reasonable enough for Ferelden, and currently fighting for her family and loved ones like most of Thedas” Leliana listed off, wondering. “She is more than we could have hoped for in a time like this. We can only hope she does not break under the strain of her responsibility.”

“Well, she is not alone” Cassandra supplied. “If anything happens, we will be here to support her or steer her in the right direction”

“My, that's awful romantic of you Cassandra” Leliana needles a bit and the Seeker narrows her eyes.

“You know we cannot-”

“Why?” Leliana cuts her off, irritated. “Why can't she be ours as the Maker intended in the safety of Haven? Game or not, the Maker chose her to be ours and us to be hers. Why can't you understand this?”

“Because I have lost someone already Leliana!” Cassandra snaps, and Josephine winces. “You may not have felt that pain, but I have. I cannot bear to feel it again, especially with how dangerous her life is at this moment.” 

“So you would sacrifice her happiness just so you won't be in pain anymore? How do you think she feels?” Leliana bites back, the slow simmering anger finally boiling over. “You saw how destroyed she was yesterday and the entirety of Haven saw her leave the Chantry crying. Solas and Varric came to me demanding to know what had happened, despite neither of them acknowledging the bond either”

“The Chantry-”

“The Chantry has disowned us! The Maker has not, and despite my position, the Maker is who I follow.” The former Left Hand shook her head and walked around the table to leave. “The girl who we have foisted the safety of Thedas upon needs us now, perhaps  _ more _ than we need her. She may bend, but we must ensure she doesn't break at  _ any _ cost”

With that, the Spymaster left, closing the door behind her. 

The chamber was silent before Cassandra growled quietly and left as well, leaving Cullen and Josephine alone in the war room.

“She isn't wrong you know,” Josephine said very quietly to the room. “The Herald needs someone to support her, and who better than those the Maker chose?”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture Josephine had begun to associate with frustration. “She is...different. The Maker may have given her the framework, but with how many people she is Marked for, who is to say she will need us? Even Cameron, a Markless, cares for her in a way that we have not”

“The question, Commander, is not whether we are  _ needed _ but is if we are  _ wanted _ . And it seems to me like she wants us, no matter the need.” Josephine shrugged a bit and took the remnants of tea and food from the side table, carefully balancing her board. “Have a good day with your soldiers Commander” 

“And you with your papers” He responded, carefully placing the markers where they needed to be, reflecting the talk from before. As Josephine left, the man was rolling the Herald’s marker between his fingers, looking at it with a soft but intense expression.

Hours flew by for the Lady as she wrote, read and edited her paperwork, letters strewn about in a haphazard but extremely organized manner while she hummed lightly under her breath. She barely even noticed the time until she heard a quiet knock upon the door to her office, hesitant and unsure. 

“Come in!” She said just loud enough to be heard, looking up from her paperwork. The Herald’s bright head of hair popped gently through the crack in the door as it opened, her green eyes seeking out Josephine immediately.

“Are we still on for lessons?” She asked as she entered the room fully, showing Josie that she had added an oversized jacket to her outfit and carried another book under her arm, this one with a much darker spine and cover.

“Ah, yes, sit down. Give me a moment to put things away and we can start” The older woman said, motioning to a chair with a stack of papers as she carefully organized her things into neat piles. Rowan nods, and takes a seat opposite her, placing her book in her lap. Her keen eyes followed Josephine as the woman organized her things and placed some of her books on a nearby shelf, before taking another few off.

“Now, while I think educating you on Thedas, in general, should be our starting point, we also need to think about how to introduce you and make a backstory that seems possible” Josephine placed a book on the table, whose cover read  _ Minor Nobles of Ferelden _ . “There are other places we can choose from if you wish, but with the Blight ten years ago, Ferelden may be the best place to have you come from, as you were likely a child then and would have been kept hidden.”

Rowan hummed and took the book gently, flipping through the pages. “And my temperament fits Ferelden alright? Do I need to worry about someone thinking I'm from somewhere else?”

“We can spin that as we go. Now, your childhood. What was the area like where you lived? Dry and arid, temperate, mountainous, sea-side?”

“Sea-side technically. I lived in a valley between the mountains and the sea, but both were easy to get to. It was nearly constantly raining, but when it wasn't, the sky was always filled with wispy clouds, even in summer.” Rowan informed her easily, smiling at the memories. “I prefer rock beaches to sand, and don't mind getting rained on.”

Josephine hummed and looked over the much smaller map she had pulled from her shelves. “Then I think the Storm Coast should be where you grew up. There aren’t many people who live in the area, due to the rain, but it's green, rocky and matches enough of your points to allow some lee-way. Now, your job, you said you trained actors?”

“In only the slightest sense. We abided by knight codes, stayed in barracks during tourneys and lived like them for the most part. It was more like we were knights who were trying to be actors.”

“And how long were you apart of this group?” Josephine had scribbled down a good part of the conversation, knowing that the others would want to know as much about Rowan’s backstory as she could give them.

Rowan’s nose scrunched up a bit as she thought. “I had my accident when I was six and joined the troupe about a year later, so about 16 to 17 years? I was only a Page for the first three, then Squire for three. Been an actual knight for ten years, give or take a few months.” 

Josie stared at her for a long moment, shocked. “17 years? Did your parents approve?”

A shrug was Rowan’s response as she stared at her hands. “Between school and such, Mom wanted me to have something to sub for my former dance lessons. I saw the knights one year after my accident and got to meet one. He was the former knight-trainer and the Black Knight at the time. He was meant to be the ‘bad guy’ and he was missing an arm. I decided that wasn't nice and gave him my favor, which was really just a cheap ribbon I bought in the stands.

“Afterwards, he came up to me and asked me why I did it. I showed him my leg and told him not everyone whose missing something is bad. He took it to heart, had me meet the ‘King’ who then offered to let me become the Knight’s Page if I wanted to. I ran with it and went every day to practice after school and spent most of my weekends there. Eventually, I was just apart of the troupe. Mom never minded, thinking it was good for me to have something to do, and my Dad passed when I was younger, so it worked out well.”

Josephine examined the girl before her in a slightly new light, realizing her life, while it hadn't been the kindest, Rowan had made the best of it with what she could. Clearing her throat, Josephine continued and began to teach Rowan about the ins and outs of Thedas.

It soon became apparent how different their worlds were as they talked, Josephine telling Rowan that Orlesians kept their Marks covered at all times, while Ferelden didn't particularly care. Tevinter flaunted theirs, the Free Marches depended on the area and the Qun was much like Ferelden, but held Marked as one entity, instead of two.

To Rowan, Marks were just another part of her life and while she didn't show hers off, she wasn't going to cover them. Which lead to another quiet argument about the Chantry and her Decoy.

Eventually, they reached a quiet agreement. Rowan’s armor would cover them for the most part, and she would cover them in public, but if something happened while she was in Haven and her Marks were shown, she would not have to elaborate.

“Now, I believe that is the last of our time for today,” Josephine said, yawning a bit. “Shall we meet Master Tethras and Mage Solas in the tavern?”

“We shall,” Rowan said, standing up from her chair. In an impulsive decision, she offered her arm to the Lady, while standing utterly still in case Josephine didn't take it. But the Ambassador had made her own decision earlier and slipped her hand into the crook of Rowan’s elbow.

With a quiet, but happy smile, Rowan let Josephine lead them to the Singing Maiden, a surprisingly quiet tavern that sat just before the hill that leads into Adan’s cabin. The majority of the tavern took no notice of the two women walking in, save for the table tucked into the corner, where Varric, Cameron, and Solas were sitting, a deck of playing cards spread out amongst them.

“You made it!” Cameron cheered, and Rowan smiled at him as she let go of Josephine and let the mage tug her down next to him. The Lady herself perched next to Varric, who was already waving down one of the two barmaids.

“Better meeting today I take it?” The dwarf said, nodding to the woman next to him. 

“Much” Rowan sighed and leaned slightly into Cameron. “There were a few things that needed to come out into the open and we figured out a general plan of action”

“Anything we should be aware of?” Solas asked, eyes flicking up from his cards. 

“It is not something we can speak of in public” Josephine informed him and Varric quietly, her eyes going to the soldiers, the approaching barmaid and subtly to Cameron. The two men nodded and Cameron ignored it as he showed Rowan his hand. 

“Hello everyone. What can I get for you?” The barmaid asked as she approached, holding a tray. Her face was cheerful and expectant, and she thankfully showed no notice that the Herald was sitting quietly amongst the group. 

“A two mugs of ale, a glass of wine for the Lady, a tankard of cider and-” Varric broke off, looking at Rowan, who was looking intently at Cameron’s cards. “Thunder, what are you feeling?”

“As long as there is no alcohol and it's warm, I'm good for anything” She responded, not taking her eyes off the painted cards. 

“A mug of mulled cider for you then” The barmaid nodded. “Any food?”

“A roll of bread and two bowls of soup” Cameron chimed in, playing a card.

“Make that three” Josephine added in, feeling her hunger start up again. 

Seeing no more orders to be taken, the barmaid gave a slight curtsey and left them to themselves, already beginning to relay the orders to the woman at the counter.

“Ever played Wicked Grace Thunder?” Varric asked, nodding to Cameron’s cards as he played one of his own.

“Nope” The ‘p’ popped a bit as Rowan’s eyes rose to meet his, a smile sliding onto her face. “It looks like a game I played back home, but I have no idea about your suits and the rules.”

“I'll deal you in the next hand. Ruffles, you good to play?” The dwarf looked to Josephine, who blinked at the nickname, but didn't comment on it.

“I am. It's always nice to play amongst friends” She replied smoothly. The hand was over soon, Solas taking the round with four serpents as a card decorated with an Angel was placed on the table. 

By the time food and drink had arrived, Josephine had won the hand and Cameron was dealing, having decided that being decimated once was enough. The next few hours were calm, the five of them eating, drinking and playing cards peacefully until one of the soldiers from a nearby table took a bit too much notice in Rowan.

“Hey, there pretty thing,” The soldier said, approaching the table. Cameron could feel Rowan twitch as she saw the man in her peripherals. “What are you doin’ with these folks when you could be with us?”

Turning slightly, the red-head looked up at him, polite but blank-faced. “I'm sorry, are you speaking to me?”

“Sure am” he leered, looking down the laces of the shirt was wearing. “Come join us sweet thing. We’ll give you a real good time”

Josephine opened her mouth to protest the man’s words, before she felt Rowan nudge her with her foot, catching her eye and shaking her head.

“I think I'm having a good time right now actually, and I believe you should leave,” Rowan said, placing her cards down and standing. 

“With those folks? A knife-ear, a rock-fucker, a noble bitch and some Markless slut? I could give you a much better time than any of these fucking cunts” The man’s hand came up slowly and was inches away from touching Rowan before-

_ Slam! _

The man fell backward with a strangled noise as Rowan’s knee hit him in the groin, followed by a punch to the throat. He wheezed as she stood over him, cupping his crotch as her foot settled on his neck, the heel pressing into his windpipe.

He made to get up for a moment and whimpered as Rowan’s heel pressed further into the hollow of his throat, the cold metal piercing through the haze of the booze.

“You are a fool” She hissed, leaning forward. “A drunken fool who cannot take no for an answer. What's to be done about that? Perhaps I should have you thrown in the dungeons to sober up for the night? Or, maybe, I'll have someone build up a stockade just. For. You.” She growled and Solas watched as the Mark in her hand crackled and spit as she held it carefully behind her, foot pressing down a bit harder on the soldier.

“You and what army bitch?” He spat, and made to get up again, only for the foot Rowan was pinning him with to raise, move and stomp down on his middle, making him gag as the booze jostled in his stomach.

“No army. Just me” She whispered and caught the eye of one of the soldiers at a table nearby, whose hand was on his sword. “You. Are you with him?”

“No Ser. Just don't want no blood on Miss Flissa’s floors” He responded and eyed the familiar woman. 

“Then get him out of here.” Rowan stepped off the prone drunken man and motioned to him. “Give him to the Commander and let him pass judgment.”

The soldier debated for a moment before one of the scouts next to him whispered in his ear wide-eyed and urgent. Immediately, the soldier flushed and nodded, rounding up another two men to carry the drunk out of the tavern. Rowan sat down heavily in her chair as they left, fist clenched tight against the wood.

“Thunder? You alright?” Varric looked concerned and that concern didn't disappear when she by-passed her mug and grabbed Cameron’s, taking a large gulp. 

“I'm fine” She lied, smiling vaguely at the dwarf. “Not my first time dealing with drunks.”

Seeing the lie but deciding not to say anything, he nodded and carefully took the mug from her, placing it back in front of Cameron. “Oh?”

Rowan paused for a moment to think of a response but was saved by the barmaid coming by, her previously cheerful expression much more somber. 

“I must thank you Ser for dealing with him, and apologize that you had to do so. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” The barmaid addressed Rowan specifically and the younger woman just gave her a vague smile. 

“Not really. I would like his name though if you don't mind.”

“Of course! That there was Henrik, one of Commander Cullen’s newer soldiers. He’s a bit of a bully when he’s drunk, but he’s not a bad man” The barmaid bit her lip, thinking for a moment. “At least, from what I can see. I don't go to the training fields much”

Rowan hummed a bit and gave her a more sincere smile. “Well, thank you miss...?”

“Oh, sorry. Darla is my name. If you ever need me, don't be afraid to call.” Darla blushed a bit at the smile, and with another curtsey, she was walking off to another table where a few scouts were watching Rowan’s small group curiously.

“Herald, should I have a talk with the Commander? I'm sure-” Josephine started before Rowan shook her head. 

“I think that we’ll have Cullen take care of it himself Lady Montilyet,” Rowan said, pulling back her mug and taking a drink of the now lukewarm cider. “If it happens again, however, no promises. Now, shall we play another game before we all retire?”

Varric and Josephine exchanged looks as Solas narrowed his eyes at the girl, but they all stayed silent as Cameron dealt out the final hand of the night, none of them noticing the Circle mage had slipped the younger woman a piece of paper during the exchange with the barmaid.

On it, in stark black handwriting, read the scratchy words:  _ Dawn at the Gates. Bring your staff. _

Behind her mug, Rowan smiled and played her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Causerie: An informal talk or chat.


	9. Pandemonium

That night, Rowan was not visited by Pragma, as she had been for many nights before. Instead, her dreams were not her own, the fear and adrenaline of before having drawn something to her without her meaning too, and the other spirit unable to pull her out. 

That night, Rowan had her first screaming nightmare in almost ten years, the yell petering off into a whimper as the even the quiet of night seemed too loud for her, the near-silent sounds of fabric against fabric sending an ice pick through her skull. 

“Herald?” A familiar voice called out in the dark and Rowan slammed her hands over her ears, feeling wetness trickle down the sides of her face as the voice, muffled as it was, cursed and ran out the door.

Rowan stayed in the quiet darkness for an unknown length of time before she felt callused yet soft hands, pull her own away from her ears. In a sudden panic, remembering the thing that had waited for her, she lashed out. There was a yelp from a deep voice and Rowan was no longer held in careful hands, instead pinned to the bed despite her struggles.

“Herald! Herald, stop!  _ Rowan!”  _ The voice, deep and so strangely familiar, snaps her out of the fit, out of the lingering nightmare even as they pin her down, keep her in place and stop her from struggling. “I need you to calm down alright? You're safe here, no one will let them hurt you” 

Shaking, Rowan pries open her eyes and it takes everything in her power not to flinch when she sees the freckled grey skin and a head crowned by curling black horns that framed a strong masculine face. 

But it was the eyes that allowed the panic to gentle, for her to relax ever-so-slightly into the bed. They were brown, deep and dark and warmer than a summer day in the middle of August. 

“Your Worship?” A softer, feminine voice comes from Rowan’s left and she turns to see Isana, her armor hastily thrown on and her hair a mess. It was clear the woman had Herald-watch and had fallen asleep during it, and then woken when Rowan had come out from her nightmare. “Are you alright?”

“No” Rowan whispered. “But I will be” She looked at the new-comer, whose hands were still holding her still against the bed, his warm hands loose shackles around her wrists. “Who are you?”

The man chuckled and gently pulled away, still hovering slightly but no longer overbearing. “I'm your Healer. Names Talan. Isana came and got me when you started screaming. Do you want to tell me why?”

“It's nothing, I promise. Just a headache.” The girl muttered, squirming back and hiding her shaking hands.

“Just a headache” He drawled as he watched her, seeing her hide but still feeling her shake against his thigh. “Are you sure about that?”

“It's my story and I'm sticking to it” Rowan eyed him as the larger man chuckled and pulled away from his hovering. 

“Then I suppose you won't be wanting something to help with the remainder of that spirit-induced headache?” Talan held up a small vial of cloudy green liquid, allowing Rowan to see the vague sparkle of blue swirling inside. Her eyes narrowed as they met his, neither flinching even with Isana looking between them, realizing quickly that Rowan had met her match when it came to stubbornness. 

“I had a nightmare” Rowan finally relented and Talan raised a brow. 

“Oh? What about?”

_ Th̢e̶r̛e͡ was͟ ̴͟s͜͝m͞o͘ke, ͘͠ ̷̢̧a̶͠͏n͏d͏͡҉ ͟so̢ ̢̕͞m̵̴͝u͟͏̶c̸̢͟h͜ ̷r͞e̵̛d̵͘  _

_ ̛͞ _

_ ҉Ţ̡h͜e̡̡̛r̷e̶̕ ̵w̷a͢s̵͝҉ ́͏n̴ó̢ ̢͏o̡͘͞nȩ̷ ć̷͞o̶͡m̧͝i҉̕n̷͘g̕͟ f̛͞o͟͏r ͢͡҉th̷͘͠e̵m _

_ ̵̀͜ _

_ ̡A ̷͏ch̸̀il̡̀͝d͠͝ c͡r͝i̛e͟͢͡s̵̡ ̧͘o̡͢͜u͟͞t̀͢-͠ _

”Fire. I dreamed about fire” She whispered and Talan sighed heavily.

“I'm having Isana grab someone for you,” He said and turned to the dwarf, ignoring Rowan sputtering behind him. “Find that mage you were telling me about. The human one.” 

“Wait, you don't-” Rowan tried to sit up, but a large hand on her chest kept her pinned, Talan looking down at her with a stern expression. 

“Go Isana” He ordered and the dwarf nodded, darting out of the cabin without much ado. Turning back to Rowan, the Healer sighed and handed her the vial from earlier. “Drink it all, and quickly.”

Rowan did as she was bidden, shooting the vial back like a shot of particularly bad tequila. Almost immediately, the icepick in her head dulled until it was a repeated nerf dart hitting her brain. Annoying, but easy to deal with.

“Why are you getting Cameron?” She asked, snuggling a little further into her covers. She wouldn't be able to sleep the rest of the night, but there was no use trying to get up if Talan didn't want her to.

“It seems your magic lessons need to start immediately, rather than later” The man replied and stood. His huge form, from what Rowan could see, was clad in familiar soft-looking clothes like he too had been pulled out of bed. “Enchanter Cameron will be able to aid with this, as Circle mages are often taught how to repel demons first thing after they enter the Circle.” 

Rowan watched Talan make tea while they waited, the flickering fire-light showing her an assortment of small pale scars on his face and chest, which seemed odd to see on the burly but soft Healer.

Soon enough though, Isana arrived with not only Cameron in tow but-

“Solas?” Rowan asked, finally sitting up despite the look Talan gave her. “What are you doing here?” The elven mage was in his normal clothes, and she saw that both he and Cameron carried their staffs, as if prepared to fight another wave of demons.

But, the look he gave her was not one of determination, but of resignment.

“I was in my cabin, speaking to Enchanter Amell when Scout Cadash burst in, saying that he was needed. She did not protest my presence, so I must assume it is an urgent matter?” The elf looked to Talan, where he was kneeling by the fire. 

“She encountered something unpleasant in the Fade” Talan explained and watched as Cameron placed his staff by the door and perched next to Rowan, where her shaking had calmed but clearly left her drained. “It seems it was more looking for a meal than a body, for which we are lucky. But with how vulnerable she is, I recommend we start her tutoring immediately.”

Cameron sighed and looked at Rowan, where she leaned heavily against the head-board of her bed, looking at the room with shadowed eyes. “Are you alright? Any lingering feelings or thoughts?” He gently tucked a curl behind her ear, and stroked his thumb across her cheek, choosing to ignore the look he got from Solas for it.

“Fear and adrenaline mostly” Rowan informed him, her hand reaching up to tangle their fingers together. “If it weren't for the fact that I feel utterly drained of energy and Talan keeps glaring at me, I’d be doing push-ups and punching dummies”

“How drained?” Solas asked, accepting the steaming cup from Talan but not drinking from it. 

“She had the shakes up until a few minutes ago, and she hasn't moved from the bed” The Healer handed another cup to Isana, who kissed his cheek in thanks, and the last two cups to Cameron and Rowan. “Drink. It will help you wake up a bit and regain your energy. Now, since you are both here, shall we begin her lessons?”

“We shall,” Solas said and sat in the chair by Rowan’s desk. “Let us start at the beginning.”

For the next few hours, the four mages talked quietly, with Solas and Cameron taking the lead regarding theory and the practicals, while Talan stressed the importance of balancing her magic use with her energy. The hands-on instruction was limited, as Rowan’s energy was still very low, but the praise she got from Cameron regarding the shimmering sparks she was able to produce was very heartening to hear. 

“It seems you have an affinity for storm magic” Solas observed after she was able to produce a small orb of lightning between her hands. “Not an uncommon affinity, but not wholly common as well. One wonders what other branches would suit you.”

“I would like to teach her healing magic, if she has time” Talan suggested, before biting into a small roll from the tray Isana had gotten from the kitchens. “It may be useful, even if she doesn't have the temperament for it.”

“I would be more than happy to learn it,” Rowan said, smiling at him. “Also, what branches of magic are there? I'm assuming healing and storm are two of them?”

“Well,” Cameron started, and was interrupted by the door being opened by a soldier, panic in his eyes.

“Ser! Forces are going down the mountain! The Herald is to be escorted to the Chantry at once!” He burst out and the room was still for a moment before Rowan yelped as Talan scooped her up from where she was sitting in her bed, slinging her over his shoulder and tucking her crutches under his arm.

“Isana, grab the Heralds staff and meet me at the Chantry.” The bigger man ordered, tone brooking no argument. “Cameron, Solas?”

“We will go to the gates and try to determine if the force is friendly of not,” The elf said, tossing Cameron’s staff to him as the both of them left the cabin in a hurry.

“Talan, dammit, put me down! I can walk just fine!” Rowan bit out, squirming in his grasp. The look he gave her was amused as they made their way into the center of Haven, following the rest of the people.

“I know you can, but I'm bigger and can get you there quicker. Never let it be said that being a Kossith doesn't get things done” 

The Chantry was crowded and full of so many panicking people that the fear was almost palpable in the air. Talan glanced worriedly at Rowan when she made a small gagging sound and covered her nose and mouth with her hands.

“Are you alright?” He whispered and Rowan shook her head. 

“I need to get out of here. There are too many people” She whispered back, and the Kossith flinched a bit, understanding.

“Let's find a room for you then.” He murmured and looked around. He found one quickly, slipping in the crack in the door faster than she expected, with Isana following behind with Rowan’s crutches. The room was sparsely furnished, with small sacks of grain and barrels of something sharp-smelling taking up most of the room. Rowan breathed in the air and was rather glad that the room had a small window, glassless and covered with a rough curtain.

“Stay here Rowan. Isana and I will be back soon with news” Talan said as he placed her lightly on a pile of grain bags. Her hand shot out as he went to leave, grip tight against the fabric.

“What? You're leaving?” She asked, incredulous. The Kossith nodded and gently took her hand from his sleeve, squatting down to look her in the eye.

“There are people who might need a Healer and Isana will guard the door to make sure no-one gets in. Just stay here and you'll be safe.” Before Rowan could say another word, Talan and Isana were out the door, leaving Rowan alone with the grain and her crutches, the clamor outside silenced by the slamming of the door. 

For a long, still moment, Rowan waits. Her mind, once silent and fed by her magic lessons, now runs like a cheetah across the plains of a world she once lived in. But Rowan is a woman of action, built from muscle and restless thrumming energy. 

So, in a spur of the moment decision, Rowan tosses her crutches out the window and crawls out after them. The landing in the snow is not graceful by any means, but it's better than the alternative. Dusting off snow from her front, she loops the crutches around her forearms and carefully makes her way around the building, trying to stay hidden. 

Peering around the corner of the Chantry, she finds it very likely that everyone is inside, as Haven is the most barren she’s ever seen it. She passes by the tents, the fires and the cabins as quick as she can and is very soon at the top of the hill, just before the stairs that lead down to the gates. 

Gathered there, Cullen and Josephine are talking with a large woman, painted and covered in furs with a deep, commanding voice. Solas, Cameron, Leliana, and Cassandra are all behind them, the mages flanking the Hands as the woman speaks.

“Tell me lowlander, do you often refuse trade with outsiders? Or do our savage ways frighten you?” The woman says, her face set in a deep frown. Behind her, Rowan can see others, just as large and painted, riding huge horned beasts that tickle something in the back of her mind.

“You do not frighten us Avvar. But how are we to know you come only for trade? Your force bears weapons and war-mounts. No trader comes with such armor” Cullen shoots back and Rowan narrows her eyes. From atop the hill, she meets the woman's eyes and feels a dormant but familiar spark in her, the smell of winter lingering on the wind as it blows up to her.

The woman blinks up at the figure upon the hill, looking fragile in her white dress as the low-landers around her continue to reject their offer of trade and allyship. The flame-haired girl doesn't look away as she descends slowly, until she stands just behind the contingent, unknown to all but the Avvar and her people.

The girl smiles and begins to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pandemonium: wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar


	10. Apricity

“Cullen? What's going on? I heard there was someone at the gates.” The girl finally speaks and the Avvar watch as all of the people in power turn to the girl with shock in their faces.

“Herald! What are you doing here? You should be inside the Chantry with the others!” The warrior-woman hisses and Eina can feel the tension suddenly rise as The Herald-girl simply looks at her, curiosity in her young face.

“And miss out on negotiations with our potential allies? I would think you would want me here to learn to better myself” The girl's face is innocent and Eina, despite her previous mood, finds herself nearly smiling. A devious little thing, with eyes like ivy and hair like fire.

Immediately, Eina likes her.

“For whom do you Herald girl? Have you any pull with these low-landers?” Eina asks and those vibrant eyes slide to her, something wicked in their depths.

“I claim to Herald none, despite the title given to me. And as for pull, it depends on the day” A smile is quick to grace her face and Eina nods, mind whirling. With one hand, she beacons forth her wife, sweet Madri, who comes with her brother flanking either side. The warriors in the group tense and Eina can see the older red-head shift a bit to be closer to the younger.

“I am Eina, Huntsmaster to the White Raven Hold. I bring with me food, men and trade. We offer allies, mounts, and friendship, should it be accepted.” She recites, as formal as her people get. The training with her Thane pays off though, as the Herald nods quietly, the Nobles by her side looking less scared than before. “Amongst my closest are my wife Madri and her brothers Del and Heimarr”

“I am Rowan, a denizen of Haven and member of the Inquisition. You are in the company of the former Hands of Divine Justinia, Cassandra and Leliana, along with Commander Cullen, Lady Josephine, and Mages Solas and Cameron. Will you abide by our laws for the duration of your stay?” Rowan points out each of the individuals as she names them, with some staring at her like she's naked and dancing like a drunk nug in a snowfield.

“We shall, so long as you give us the same consideration,” Madri says, coming forward a bit. Her face, sweet and round, bears the smile that made Eina fall in love with her, wicked and kind all at once.

Rowan turns to her Commander, where the man is staring at her dumbstruck. “Is that possible Cullen? To keep order and be allies with these people?”

“I-Um, yes?” He stammers and looks to Josephine for help, not noticing the slight pride on Leliana’s face and the considering one on Solas’. The Antivan nods slightly and Cullen looks back to Rowan, nodding firmer than before. “Yes Herald, if you are sure-”

“I am” 

“Then I am sure we can work up an agreement?”

“Huntsmaster Eina” Josephine is the one to step up next, shoulders back and very much trying to make herself be seen. “Would you prefer to come inside the walls to negotiate, or shall we let you make camp first?”

The Huntmaster considered it for a moment, but Madri was the one to make the decision. “Why don't we make camp and allow you all give word to your people? That way we might be able to communicate a bit better without the threat of your people misinterpreting our visit?” She suggested and Josie gave the other woman a much more sincere smile.

“That sounds perfect Lady Madri-”

“Augur Madri, if you will” The Avvar intercepted and motioned to her brothers. “I, along with my brothers, are the Augurs of White Raven Hold. We would like to be addressed as such”

“Oh, of course!” Josephine covered up her stumble wonderfully as she turned to Eina. “And would you prefer to be called by your title as well?”

“Until we get to know each other better, it would be best,” She said and looked to Rowan, who was not so subtly guarded by Cassandra and Cullen. “Herald, I would like to speak with you while our camp is being made, if your guards can spare you.”

Rowan eyed the warriors and sighed, gently pushing on Cullen’s shoulder. “I would be honored to join you Huntmaster. And please, call me Rowan.” She managed to push past the warriors and smiled, despite her crutches making it a bit harder for her to shoulder past. 

The Huntmaster, in a fit of pique, offered her arm to the girl and quietly pulled her away from the group. Rowan’s Inner Circle all exchanged glances before Cameron gently tugged on Solas’ arm.

“Come on. Avvar respect mages quite a bit, and I'm sure they would not fight with us for following her.” He murmured and looked to the Augur’s, who looked back impassively. “Shall we?”

The older mage nodded and despite the Augur’s and the Inner Circle giving them looks, they didn't bother the two mages as they followed Rowan and Eina into the encampment, the slighter woman talking quietly with the giant beside her. 

Soon enough, they were at the mounts and Rowan was startled into silence as she took in the huge, horned and painted beasts that were being unpacked.

“What are those?” She whispered to Eina, who resisted a smile.

“Nuggalopes. These ones are a specific Avvar breed, made for the mountains and battle. Would you like to meet one?” She asked and suppressed a laugh as the eager nod from Rowan. She didn't miss the tensing of the Mages behind her as she walked Rowan up to one of the tamer beasts, the huge horned head currently buried in a bag of oats. It's blind head lifted at the sound of their approach and Rowan let loose a small coo at the way its ears flicked towards them, snuffling gently.

“This one is Rock-Treader. She’s an old beast, better as a pack beast than a riding companion, but she’ll let you pet her if you like” 

“Really? Where?”

The Avvar watched their Huntmaster quietly guide the Lowlander girl’s hands to the Nuggalopes face, showing her the best places to pet Rock-Threader, who made deep squeaky noises at the soft petting.

“Huntmaster?” One of the other Avvar came up, looking to the Lowlanders, but relaxing when he saw the tall woman's posture. “Would you be able to help Arda? She’s having trouble with one of the bigger tents.”

“One moment Korin,” Eina said and turned to Rowan, a bit bashful. “Once I am done setting up camp with my people, we will talk. For now, feel free to mingle amongst the mounts.” Patting her shoulder gently, Eina left.

“Lowlanders” One of Madri’s brothers, Del, rumbled, making the three Haven mages lookup. “Will you aid us in putting up warming spells and safety wards?”

Cameron looked to Solas, who was looking carefully at Rowan. “I would not be opposed. Solas?”

“If the Herald feels that she will be fine alone, I will assist happily,” The elf said, making Rowan look at him, smiling slightly. 

“I'll be fine Solas. Go have fun. I'm sure you’d like seeing how they do things?” She hinted, hoping she read the oldest mage right. A flicker of a smile said she was correct, which helped when Del motioned to his brother Heimarr.

“She will not be alone. Heimarr will aid your Rowan if she needs it. Come.” A man of few words, Del was walking away before his was finished, making Cameron ruffle Rowan’s hair as he passed by quickly, while Solas simply touched her shoulder lightly, following at a more sedate pace.

Sighing, Rowan looked up the blonde giant beside her, who still hasn't said a word to her. Deciding to keep quiet herself, she instead wandered between the mounts in silence, Heimarr following like a phantom behind her. It seemed that while the common mount was the Nuggalopes, she did count several horses in the group, mostly huge Clydesdale types, rather than the Quarter Horses Rowan was used to riding. 

However, despite all this, Rowan found her favorite of all the mounts at the very end of her rounds. The Nuggalope was huge, bigger than most of their companions and had their horns wrapped in dark red cloth. Their mouth was muzzled however and immediately Rowan was curious. 

Coming closer, she missed the tensing of Heimarr’s shoulders behind her as she placed her hand on the Nuggalope's nose. The beast made a deep noise, that made Rowan’s hand shake where it pressed on its snout. His eyes (because what else would this great beast be?) were dark holes that stood out from the white paint on his face but matched the black coat he sported.

“Hey, it's okay” She whispered, gentle as she could be, stroking her hand down the Nuggalopes nose. “I won't hurt you, sweetie, it's okay.” Another rumble sounded from the beast as she spoke, his hand moving slightly. The turn made her hand come in contact with the muzzle, the iron bars cold against her palm.

“Do you want this off, sweetheart? Does it hurt?” She asked, aware she was talking to a possibly dangerous animal. But, something inside her was whispering that it didn't want to hurt her, and when he nodded his great head, Rowan fixed her fingers to the muzzle to begin to pry it off. 

A noise from behind her almost made her stop, remembering the Avvar who had accompanied her. But Rowan was determined, and soon the muzzle came off, dropping to the ground with a thud. Rowan looked at the great beast she had freed and he looked back, opening and closing his mouth like he was stretching it.

She saw his teeth, huge and pointed like a shark. His mouth, wider than a horse's, longer and deeper. His height, at least 2 feet higher at the shoulder than any of the others. His paws, human-like with sharp claws adorning them.

But, instead of eating her, or attacking, or even running away to find some meal in the mountains, she watched as he knelt, presenting himself for her to ride. This was where she looked to Heimarr, who was staring at her like she was some ghost or strange creature that he had just discovered, hidden away from the world.

“I cannot get up by myself” She whispered and missed the minute widening of his eyes as the words clicked in his mind, suddenly very aware of the pull he had felt upon seeing this strange, fragile creature.

Slowly, he approached, pausing when the Nuggalope growled and began to raise his head, only to quiet when Rowan shushed it, petting gently over his flank. She was light in his hands, and under her dress, he could feel hidden muscle and corded strength under the white fabric. The white of her gown blended well with the Nuggalopes coat as he stood to his full height, covering her missing leg as she adjusted into a more comfortable side-saddle position. 

Breathless, Heimarr gazed up at this flame-haired, brave little Lowlander that the Lady had gifted to him. 

“You look like a goddess with him beneath you” He murmured finally, and Rowan’s head snapped to him, green eyes wide as the words registered in her mind.

Then, she began to giggle.

A soft one, that turned into open laughter that for a moment, Heimarr felt almost offended, were it not for his realizing what he had said to his Chosen upon their Meeting. He could hear the encampment murmuring behind them, unable to see the girl who had tamed the most dangerous beast in White Raven Hold by simply being kind.

“I always wondered what you meant by that” Rowan finally said, wiping away a tear and looking down to her Marked. “I guess this big guy isn't the nicest?”

“He is the product of a Dracolisk mating with a Nuggalope. Huge, bad-tempered and made for only the fiercest of warriors. The others of his litter died when they were but pups” Heimarr confirmed, eyeing the beast, who stood utterly still under the girl. 

“How did they die?”

“He ate them” 

Rowan blinked for a moment and leaned down to the Beast’s head, stabilizing herself on his horn. “Did he really? Well, I suppose Nature has a rather bloody history” She mused, and pet him gently over his cheek, moving with him as he turned his head to get nose-rubs. “Gosh, aren't you a big ole’ softy?” She hummed and obliged.

Shaking his head, Heimarr watched the Beauty before him tame the savage beast. “Would you like to keep him?” He blurted, and Rowan raised her head a bit, surprise on her face.

“Can I? The Huntmaster won't be mad?”

Heimarr approached the pair again, the Beast’s eyes following him as he came back up to Rowan. “She would be all too happy to hand him over to you after she sees you ride him” He assured and swallowed hard. “She would also be understanding if I told her it was a gift of courtship.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed a bit, and beneath her, the Beast’s head turned a bit, until he was pinned by the two unfathomable glances. 

“Courtship?” She murmured and Heimarr swallowed hard.

“If you are willing to take me,” He willed his voice not to shake as they looked at him, before a slow, happy smile spread across Rowan’s face, brightening it.

“I am” She whispered and the two smiled at each other dumbly, neither recognizing the warm feeling that spread over their Marks as Heimarr took the Beast’s bridle in his hands and began to lead them back to the encampment. Rowan talking softly to her new mount as they let themselves be led.

The encampment went quiet and still as soon as they saw the pair come forward. Heimarr could hear more than one person drop their tools on either their or their partner's foot more than once. But what really mattered was Eina’s expression, the wide eyes of the Huntmaster frozen in place as they came forward, the Beast’s lead nearly loose in Heimarr’s hand.

“Heimarr” She breathed, looking a bit shaken. “Why is she riding the Beast?  _ How _ is she riding him?”

“A bit of kindness goes a long way Huntmaster,” Rowan said, stroking a hand down one of her mounts horns. “He’s really quite nice once you get past all that sharpness.”

Eina made a noise as she watched the Beast’s mouth open, his black tongue slithering out and gently licking the girl's hand, causing her to laugh softly. 

“Huntmaster, I ask that we give a show of good faith, and offer the Beast to her as a mount” Heimarr rumbled, looking a bit nervous. “She has said she will accept it if the offer is made.”

“Then offer I will” Eina confirmed and waved her hand, bring the attention to herself with a sharp whistle. “Hear me! The Beast of White Raven Hold has been mounted! The one who rides him is Rowan, Tamer of Monsters! Is this known!?”

A cheer went up amongst the Avvar, grins appearing on some face, while others looked afraid. In the middle of the crowd, Rowan could see Cameron and Solas staring at her, the former gaping open-mouthed while the latter’s eyes were a bit wider than the norm. A small shrug and sheepish smile was all she could offer as Eina turned to her, solemn again.

“Rowan, what would you call the mount you have chosen?” She asked, eyeing the Beast as he looked around at the crowd, a thin line of drool escaping his huge mouth.

Rowan considered it for a long time, looking closely at her new friend, hands idly tracing patterns in his hide. A few old stories crossed her mind, some more prominent than others before she nodded, and looked Eina in the eyes.

“His name will be Melkor” She announced and despite the name being a bit dark, another cheer rose from the crowd and she saw her friend join the small gathering around her, Cameron eyeing the newly named Melkor warily.

“Roe, what on earth are you riding?” He asked, dumbfounded. “That thing’s bigger than most of the Avvar!”

“He's a Dracolisk-Nuggalope crossbreed Cam. But don't worry, he's a big ole’ softy once you get to know him” She reassured and Melkor turned his head and snorted in Cameron's direction, leading him to hide slightly behind Solas. The elven mage, however, was less frightened of the beast and allowed him to snuffle at his chest, hoping Rowan’s magic had left its mark.

A long, black tongue was his answer to that question as Melkor, having found Solas worthy, licked the mage from sternum to crown. A snort came from Eina unbidden as Rowan smiled down at Solas, happy that her furry friend liked her Soulmate.

“See! Big old softy” She crowed and winced at the look Solas gave her, wiping the saliva from his face.

“Indeed. Now, I believe the Huntmaster wanted to speak with you?” He drawled and having been pulled into the conversation, Eina nodded.

“I did. The other lowlanders seem to listen to you, despite your age and stature. I was wondering why that might be.” The older woman said, not one to mince words. Rowan winced a bit and looked to Heimarr for a moment.

“Darling, could you help me down? I think this conversation would be best on the ground.” She asked, and ignored the narrowed eyes of Solas as the blond giant helped her down, handing back the crutches he had been carrying. Melkor was unhappy to have his human off his back but was happy to walk beside her as Eina led them over to a fire where a bowl of something was cooking slowly. 

Perching gently on one of the makeshift benches (huge logs with carved out hollows), Rowan felt Melkor settle behind her, his huge bulk pressing against her back and allowing her to lean against him slightly. She waited for the others to settle and was happy to find herself flanked by Solas and Heimarr, although the two mages were exchanging tense glances.

“So, my influence” She sighed and fidgeted lightly with her hands. “I suppose you’ve noticed the great big green thing in the sky?”

“The Lady’s Wound? Of course” Eina’s brow furrowed and she looked a bit closer at Rowan. “What does that have to do with this?”

Rowan winced and looked down at her hands, before turning her left palm upwards. The hiss that came from bothe Eina and Heimarr had her curl her shoulder in a bit, but neither of them made any sudden movements.

“I woke up with this in a dungeon about a week ago. People came to me and told me that there was something terrible happening and that I had to help fix it. I helped, I nearly died, and then I woke up with a title I had no knowledge of taking. It was explained to me that all of Haven believes me... _ holy _ . I was told that I was needed to help ensure the rest of the Breach, or Wound, was closed. I have clout only because they need me, and currently, it is a very bad idea to make me unhappy.”

She didn't bother looking up from her hand as her thumb stroked along the gash, feeling the odd buzzing in her bones with every pass. Beside her, she could feel Solas’ mint and caramel magic in flux, while the unfamiliar scents of wildflowers, honey, and woodsmoke passed over her. 

“I think there is another reason as well,” Eina said finally and eyed her Augur from where he sat next to the girl. “Heimarr? Do you know why?”

Both Solas and Cameron tensed as the blond nodded, gently touching Rowan’s shoulder. “I am Claimed by her, and I can see the Claims of others upon her body. It would be no surprise to see if they are hers.”

“Rowan? Are they yours?” Eina pushed gently and Rowan nodded, her teeth clenched tight and ready to lash out if need be. But instead, Eina only sighed and looked to the sky, where the Breach lit up the blue. “How many do you Claim?”

“Fourteen.”

“And how many have Claimed you?” 

Rowan’s teeth made an odd sound as she clenched them that much tighter and she could feel Melkor move behind her, pinning Eina down with a look and rumbling unhappily at the smell of ozone Rowan was giving off. 

“Rowan. How many?” Eina pushed, determined to find out the root of the odd feeling building inside her, the inkling that something was wrong about this.

“Only two” Rowan whispered finally and felt a thin hand touch her back, the smell of spearmint stronger now. “I can feel Heimarr’s bond strongly, along with one who has Bonded with me despite us not sharing our words first.”

The fire was silent for a long time, Eina staring at Rowan, then at Heimarr and finally at the two lowlanders who looked at Rowan with concern.

Eina made to speak, to question further the reasoning why this girl, stuck amid the biggest Claim-Web she had ever seen, was UnClaimed at  _ all _ when they heard the familiar tromping feet and metal-clink of Rowan’s warriors approaching.

At the front, the Commander (Cullen, Rowan had said) was flanked by the two Hands of the Lowlander God-Speaker, with the Noblewoman and a Stone-Born taking up the rear, along with one of the Horned Ones from the north.

“Rowan!” The Horned One shouted and made his way to the front, coming closer to Rowan than Eina would think possible of his size. But she allowed him to pass when Rowan looked up and smiled at him as he knelt in front of her, huge grey hands cupping her cheeks. “What were you thinking? You must be freezing!” 

The group around Rowan watched in amusement as the Kossith gently placed a blanket around Rowan’s shoulders and began to slide a pair of gloves onto her hands. 

“Talan! Stop, I'm fine” She reassured, stopping his fluttering hands. “I'm not that cold, plus I'm sure if I was, Huntmaster Eina would help me. Right?” Rowan glanced at Eina, who nodded, watching the display with curiosity. 

“Your Herald is correct,” She said, and Talan looked at her, dark eyes keen and intense.

“Fair enough. But don't do that again young lady. Your recovery is hard enough as is, combined with what happened this morning, and I don't want any backward slides now, you hear me?” The Kossith chastised and Rowan sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Yes Talan” She murmured and looked to her Mates. “How did telling the masses go?”

“Well enough” Leliana informed her, eyeing Melkor where the Nuggolisk lounged behind Rowan, looking mostly tame, were it not for the way he watched them. “Most are apprehensive about the situation, but none are vocally against the idea. We can only hope that our people stay where they are meant to and do not disturb you if they are unwelcome.”

“So, could be worse, but could be better? I suppose that's as far as we are going to get with them...” Rowan trailed off as Varric stalked forwards, frown on his face. “Varric?”

“You scared Squishy, Thunder” He muttered, eyeing Heimarr beside her and Melkor. “Whisper found me in a panic, thinking you’d be with me after she found you gone from your little room. Want to tell me why?” His arms crossed and Rowan swallowed as the rest of her soulmates nodded, her shoulders straightening slightly in preparation for defending her actions.

But, somehow, she didn't have to.

“She was feeling trapped and likely coddled by you Master Tethras” Cameron chipped in, standing from where he had been perched next to Solas. “After the Council’s decision to use her as a poster-girl and diplomat door-mat, and the fact that no-one seems to think she’ll recover anytime soon, she’s probably raring to go and fight against the pretty cage you’ve trapped her in.”

“Cage? We never-” Cullen protested, only to be pinned by Cameron’s angry gaze. 

“ _ You have no room to speak Templar _ ” He growled and faced back to Eina, plastering on a polite but fake smile. “Apologies for dragging you into this personal mess Huntmaster, but it seems it is time for us to leave your company. It was an honor speaking to you.” Cameron bowed and offered his hand to Rowan, who took it gratefully. He pulled her up from between Heimarr and Solas, making the Avvar and Melkor both stand as well, the rest of the Inner Circle pale when they saw how big the Nuggolisk was. “Shall we my dear?”

“I think that would be best” Rowan confirmed and turned to Heimarr. “Would you like to accompany us, dearest? Cameron likely wishes to drag me into lessons again” None of Rowan’s other Mates missed the term she used on the Avvar, something cold sliding along their spine when the blond nodded and helped her mount Melkor. She nodded to Eina, a chagrined look on her face. “Good day for now Huntmaster. I will have Heimarr back by sun-down.”

The group watched in shock as the three made their way past the training fields and into the woods and hills past Haven’s last gate. It was silent for a long, tense moment before Eina turned to the Circle, eyeing them critically.

“If you do not Claim her soon,” She rumbled, addressing them all. “Then she will be lost to you by the first flowers of spring.” With her cold, certain words, she walked away and Madri took her place, eager to draw up the rules and laws of their shared space and trade agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apricity: The warmth of the sun during winter.
> 
> A/N: I am aware that a Nuggolisk would probably not be technically possible, but the thought of one was somewhat hilarious to me, and I want Rowan to have a big, scary mount that is just a giant softy (but only to her and those who smell like her).
> 
> Thus, Melkor the Nuggolisk was born.
> 
> Also, kudos if you know where his name came from!


	11. Conflagration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry, this chapter is a little shorter than normal! I started my vacation, and while I started writing this almost immediately, I just could get the words out and when I did, they were a bit lackluster.
> 
> But I made it! And next Sunday's update will be twice as long to make up for it!
> 
> Enjoy.

There was something in Rowan’s chest that she couldn't identify as the four of them rode to the fields beyond Haven. It was a dark thing, a cold thing. Black ice on a newly-paved road, dangerous and unseen. It lingered as Heimarr scouted the area, quickly finding a large stone for Rowan to sit on, but frowning as he realized she only wore her nightgown, a single sock and thin shoe, and a pair of gloves, with her blanket thrown over the top of her shoulders. She didn't look up at Cameron as he came closer and both men exchanged tense looks when they saw the glassy nature of her green eyes.

“Rowan? We are here.” Cameron nudged her gently with a hand on the top of her foot, making her blink and look up from where she stared blankly at the back of Melkor’s head. His face peered up at her concerned and behind him she could see Heimarr standing by a huge boulder, his face inscrutable.

“Oh, right, sorry” She muttered and made to dismount, barely catching herself from falling off by Melkor putting out a paw to catch her. Heimarr got a pinched look on his face when he saw how hard she was gripping the blanket that Talan had draped around her shoulders.

“You are not well, are you?” He said finally, as she got her crutches under her and stabilized as much as she could for them sinking into the snow. The look he got was nigh venomous as Rowan glared, a sudden fire flaring inside her.

“I'm  _ fine, _ ” She said and wobbled a bit as she tried to move, only to trip into the snow as her crutch got caught in the snow. The blue-streak she swore was venomous enough that Heimarr hesitated to help her up, still unsure of where he stood with her. 

But Cameron, who was well versed in frustratedly trapped, angry people, simply helped her up and guided her to lean against Melkor.

“Stay here Rowan. I'm going to get some blankets and actual clothes for you, along with your leg. I think some staff training should help with that temper of yours before you bite someone's head off. Or break your jaw.” The former Circle mage tapped Rowan’s jaw, reminding her of how tight she was clenching it. He looked to Heimarr, who looked a bit daunted by the angry young woman. “Blondie, she’s angry, but she won't hurt you. Her illness and recovery are touchy, so I wouldn't mention it, but I'm sure she’d be more than happy to talk about something else for right now.”:

“I can talk for myself Cameron” Rowan narrowed her eyes at him, only to have him tweak her nose and give her a look.

“You are also cold, hungry, irritated and probably have a headache. Anyone would get moody in that situation, and I don't want you saying something you regret. Now cuddle with your giants while I gather some things for us to get a little more comfortable alright?” He smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her temple before taking off at a jog down to Haven. 

“I am not a giant” Heimarr muttered from beside her and Rowan snorted, looking up at him.

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Gently she reached out to his vest and tugged him closer, showing him that to her, he was in fact, a giant. Her red-orange curls brushed the bare skin beneath his vest as she leaned her back against it and placed her hand just above it, measuring. “Heimarr, I barely come up to your collarbone!”

The Avvar looked down at her quietly and the small smile she’d plastered on flickered, her fake-good-mood fading as he very gently pulled her back in, wrapping the blanket around her a bit tighter.

“Please do not fake anything around me Rowan” He murmured, making her tense. “I can feel you through the Bond, as small as it may be. Your Cameron is right. I think you hide your pain more than you let on.”

Rowan was tense and silent for a long moment, but Heimarr was happy to feel no surge of anything over the Bond as she placed her head against his chest, shoulders gradually loosening. “I have to. I can't let them see me like this.”

“Like what?”   
  


“Weak. Helpless. I can't go back, I  _ won't _ go back to treating me like some glass doll the moment they see me.” Her voice was rough, and now he could feel slow simmering anger and frustration bubble and begin to boil. Her hands came up and wrapped gently around his waist, a juxtapose to the emotions he could feel underneath his own. “I  _ refuse _ ”

“Who said you were weak? What fool would look at you as you are, and think you were  _ helpless _ ?” Heimarr felt her clutch him that much closer and the welling anger wash over him, bits of sorrowful shrapnel flowing beneath it. 

“Everyone. My friends lost to fear of breaking me. My family, forced to accept the fate I’d been given. Strangers who looked at me with  _ pity _ when all I wanted was  _ respect _ ” If Heimarr had thought Rowan’s voice was rough before, it was a mountainous cliffside now. Her head lifted from his chest and there was something in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“I cannot be glass where they are expecting iron. They are counting on me.” 

Heimarr let himself simply hold her instead of comment on her words, despite his first instinct to tell her that she did not need to be iron. Their relationship was still so new, and with the situation brewing within his Claim’s walls, he had a feeling it would not go over well.

They stayed that way, quiet and restless, leaning against a dozing Melkor, until Cameron arrived, leading a small wagon behind him, full of clothes, food, staves and Rowan’s prosthetic leg. His first order of business was to get Rowan warm, which involved him helping to put her leg on and then holding up a blanket around her form so she could get dressed without anyone unwelcome seeing.

Soon enough, Rowan was dressed, Cameron walking away as she was looking at her hair, still loose and slightly messy from sleep.

“Sometimes I regret growing out my hair” She muttered, running her hands through the red-orange tresses. She quickly groomed down the curls as much as she could, putting it into a tight plait over her shoulder. Looking back up from her hair, she saw that both men were setting up a small area for them to work in, with Heimarr placing down a large blanket with food while Cameron had walked away to set up the staves he had borrowed against a tree, each of them different sizes and colors.

“Alright Roe” Cameron started and turned to face her. His face, while still happy, had an undertone of something serious. “That Council of yours wants you to go to the Hinterlands, correct? From what I can tell, you have no training with your magic, no knowledge of the basics and a high chance that your magic could go haywire if this morning was any indication. Due to this, Heimarr and I have decided to try to see what kind of magic you respond best to. While my Circle training might be helpful for theory, the Avvar technique has a way of working past theory into instinct. We want to see if you carry that instinct”

Rowan looked between the two men and saw that while the blanket on the ground was carrying food, it also carried books and small tools that she didn't recognize. She followed Cameron onto the blanket and watched as he and Heimarr separated the tools, the sharper, cleaner lines going to Cameron while the more organic went to Heimarr.

“Now, in the same vein of this morning” Cameron started as Heimarr placed a candle on a small disk of metal in the middle of the blanket. “I want you to light this candle.”

“How?” 

“However you feel,” Heimarr said, taking the lead. “Feel the fire, feel the heat, remember the light. Then, light the candle.”

Rowan looked between the two men, who stared back impassively and then looked to the ‘unscented’ tallow candle. It was stoat, fat-yellow and the wick was already blackened by soot. It was just a candle. 

Fire was life. It was light, it was stars, it was indestructible and yet so easy to block. It was in her lungs, in her core. It heated her when she was cold a̶nd̵ i̴͞t̨̢͟ ̧s̢͟w͏͏al̶̵̛l̡̢̛͝ơ͢͠w͠͠e͡d̶̸͘͘-

Rowan shook the thought away, the light of an unknown memory peeking out from her consciousness, the smell of burning meat coming to the forefront. A hand, rough and huge, laid itself on her shoulder and another placed itself on her knee, slimmer and smooth.

“Focus Rowan. Focus on the fire” One of the men in front of her said, wildflowers and honey on the wind. 

“What is fire, Rowan? How does it breathe? How does it eat?” The other said, woodsmoke and fresh snow.

She looked at the candle, plucked it from the disk and stared at the blackened wick, a memory of flame upon its crest.

Rowan breathed in air.

And out came  _ fire _ .

From her lungs, she drew out her magic, letting the memory of heat in her core sear the wax, singe the air and burn along the wick. It kindled along the soot of the previous flame, sparking and spitting until finally, Rowan held a captive flame in her hands, the flickering spear of light dancing along the head of the candle.

She looked up into the eyes of her friends and smiled as a flame the same color of her eyes danced without burning, cold as winter and consuming nothing.

“Veilfire” Cameron breathed, staring at the candle, and reach out his hand in silent askance. She passed the candle over and watched it flicker and die as it left her, burning out in a mere second.

“It didn't stay” Rowan, said, dumbfounded and staring at the candle. “Why didn't it stay?”

“Veilfire is not a normal flame Roe,” The Circle mage said, still examining the candle. “The theory is that it's a memory of flame, so it doesn't burn or consume any fuel. But, if the magic holding goes away-”

“Then the flame does as well” Rowan finished, brow furrowed. She turned to Heimarr, who was looking at the candle in Cameron's hands with a similar expression. “Does this happen in your Holds too?”

“Often” He rumbled and held out his hand for the candle. Turning it over in his large hands, he finally decided to light it himself, snapping his fingers and sparking a real flame along the wick. “Try to take over the flame this time. Don't create, only feel” He instructed and handed the candle back. Rowan took it with a deep breath in and focused on the flame. 

Or rather, she tried. 

Every time she was able to blur away the surroundings and focus on how the flame danced, her mind began to twist. It shied away from the colors, from the heat and by the third time she tried to control the flame, she was frustrated and her headache from before was back with a stinging, buzzing vengeance.

“Goddammit!” She burst finally, shocking Cameron and Heimarr and they watched as the fire went out suddenly and the Veilfire was back. Then, the two of them ducked as Rowan chucked the candle into a snowbank, the Veilfire going out the moment it left her hand. “I can't do it!”

“Rowan-” Cameron started and her gaze swung to him, ozone crackling around her as her temper showed it's ugly head. “It's alright. Sometimes fire is a bad starting point alright? Let's try something else.”

Rowan took in a deep, shuddering breath and jumped as a hand slipped into hers, squeezing gently. Heimarr was quiet as he held her hand, thumb gently going in circles along the back of it as he looked into her eyes.

“You don't like fire, do you?” He rumbled and Rowan could hear the rustling of Cameron pause. “It's not the candle or the magic, it's the fire itself that you can't focus on.”

The woman nodded, jaw working but no sound coming out. “It hurts to think about. Every time I get close, the heat and the  _ smell _ , it makes my headache.”

“What smell?” Cameron asked tentatively, holding a small metal rod and a bowl of water. His eyes bored into her as she winced, chewing on her lower lip. “Rowan Kent.  _ What smell? _ ”

“I can't get the smell of cooking meat out of my head” She admitted, whispering. “But it's  _ wrong _ . There's something off about it and I can't explain why and those damn memories keep showing up and then fading and it hurts so much!” The two older mages watched as something in Rowan shattered, tears making their way down her face as she ripped her hand from Heimarr’s and clutched at her head, the fire from before taking hold as the headache intensified. 

She heard Cameron swear and bark something at Heimarr, who pulled her close, sitting her with his chest to her back and arms around her waist.

“Rowan, I need you to drink this alright? It will help your headache.” A vial of something was pressed against her lips and she let the cold liquid fill her mouth, a strange bitter taste accompanying it. But, she swallowed and when Cameron pressed something else to her mouth, she swallowed it without question, soon realizing it was ice-cold water.

“Not too much, there's a girl” Cameron murmured and she felt a bearded face press a kiss to the top of her head, fleeting but warm. “Do you think you can open your eyes now?”

Rowan thought about it for a moment before prying open her eyes slowly, the white of the snow-field still bright but no longer blinding. In front of her, Cameron knelt, concern written all of over his face. “What-?”

“I think whatever took your memories messed with your mind,” He said bluntly and behind her, Heimarr hissed. “I can't tell who or why or even  _ how _ , but we need to keep you away from fire until we figure it out. That sound alright?”

“What about the Veilfire? I did okay with that...” Rowan trailed off, unsure she wanted to dismiss the progress she had worked for. It was the only thing besides conjuring some sparks that seemed to work, and she still hadn't gotten a full explanation of how the magic in Thedas worked.

Cameron hummed but Heimarr was the one to step in, tilting her head back so she could look in his eyes and feel the worry that lingered. “Veilfire only” His voice brooked no argument and Rowan smiled up at him.

“I promise” She whispered and tangled her fingers with his other hand, smile widening as a tiny blush coated his cheeks at the action.

“Alright love birds, let's get back on track” Cameron muttered and Rowan narrowed her eyes a bit and her hand snapped out, catching him by the collar. “Um, Roe?”

Instead of answering, Rowan pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek, making a deeper blush spread across his face. “Thank you, Cameron.” She whispered, lips moving gently against his cheek as she let him go. The older mage straightened and took up his tools again, clearing his throat as he tried to become serious again, despite the smile on Rowan’s face.

Rowan’s giggle echoed across the field as she, once more, dipped into her magic and resumed her learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conflagration: A massive destructive fire.


	12. Clandestine

Even with the Fire-Incident in the back of her mind, Rowan’s next few hours of training go past faster and easier than she expects. Cameron and Heimarr are as patient as they can be, with the Avvar more than happy to chime in when Rowan needs it, unsure of certain terms Cameron uses. One of the more memorable ones is Phylactery, and both of the older mages get a look on their face’s when she inquires more.

Neither of them answers, dodging the question with another demonstration and that makes Rowan all the more curious as to what Thedas had hidden from her so far.

But, soon enough, the sun is hitting the horizon and Heimarr was bound back to his encampment, ready to talk to Eina about what the next few days entail for them.

“May I visit you tomorrow morning?” He asks, holding Rowan’s hand as they near the camp, both of them ignoring the looks they are getting from the scattered Haven soldiers that occupy the training fields. “I cannot promise it will be early, but I will if I am able”

Rowan softly laughed and nodded, pulling him down a bit until he was at her level, allowing her to press a soft kiss to his cheek, smiling when she could hear the whispers coming from the soldiers as Heimarr’s cheeks flushed. “I would like that. See you in the morning my dear” She whispered and let the giant go, picking up Cameron’s hand as they walked away, slinging her arm into the crook of his.

The walk to her cabin was quiet, neither of the two mages needing words in the companionable silence they found themselves in, despite the muttering crowd that they waded through. The majority of the talk, Rowan found, was a curiosity towards the newcomers into Haven and the alliance they had agreed to with her Advisors.

However, some of the talk was not as kind and Rowan found herself gritting her teeth every time she heard the words ‘savage’ or ‘barbaric’. Cameron, to his credit, simply kept a hold of her arm and guided her back to the cabin without saying a word.

“Get some sleep alright?” Cameron told her, as they stopped in front of her cabin door. “You've had a long day and I know I’d be tired after all that.” He hesitated for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. There was the tiniest of blushes on his cheeks as he walked away and Rowan snorted as she entered her cabin.

Isana is there, quietly talking to an attentive Athras, getting her hair braided by the older elf woman. Her eyes are brighter and happier than this morning, and abruptly Rowan is thrown back into this morning and feels terrible for waking the other woman from her sleep.

An idea snaps into her mind and Rowan smiles a bit more sincerely as it settles.

“Isana, Athras?” Rowan addresses them and Isana’s head snaps to her, despite her hair being in Athras’ hands. “Can I speak to the two of you for a moment? I feel terrible that I woke you this morning, and I'm sure you’d like to spend the night with Athras and Talan. I have a solution for you if you are willing to take it.” Rowan watched the dwarf and elf exchange glances, both of them unsure and a bit suspicious after her actions that morning.

“What kind of deal?” Athras asked, tying off Isana’s braid. Her eyes were keen on Rowan as the younger woman perched on her bed.

“Isana and you spend the night outside of the cabin and spend some time together while I am in here. Alone.” Rowan added, after a moment and immediately her bodyguards wanted tp argue, pausing when Rowan held up a hand. “I will promise, on my honor, to stay in the cabin and not leave it until the desired time decided by the two of you. Does that sound alright?”

The two were very quiet until Athras said, very slowly, “We decide the time?”

“Yes”

“And you  _ swear _ to stay in the cabin? No leaving?”

“Swear to the Maker” 

The elf looked at her very carefully, eyes narrowed as Isana tugged her down and whispered something into her ear, making the left one twitch as Athras listened contemplative. 

“No leaving until tomorrow when we get back,” She said finally.

Then, the elf stood, hand holding a smiling Isana’s and the two left the cabin, the dwarf shouting “goodnight” to Rowan as the door slammed closed. Rowan sighed lightly as she looked around the cabin, finally, truly alone without any worry about interrupting for at least a few hours.

She quietly went to her bookshelves and began to pull tomes out, scattering them around the room in piles according to the subject. The cultural ones got put on her desk, along with the ones on animals, plants and general subjects. Meanwhile, the ones to do with magic and the theories on them were placed carefully on the floor, in a semi-circle that Rowan completed as she put her leg aside, settling onto one of her pillows on the hard ground.

Then, Rowan read.

Each book was different in the approach of magic, some written by clear non-Mages, while others were written by old Enchanters that were probably long since dead. The books written by non-Mages were cautionary tales, more focused on making the Mages reading them fear their magic, and fear what they could do. The actual instructional tomes, however, Rowan found just as frustrating as the others, if not more.

Every sentence was written like the reader was an idiot, completely dry and flavorless test running together as the simple  _ theory _ of magic was discussed until Rowan was nearly cross-eyed from reading the same page over and over again trying to absorb the subject written on the pages.

Despite it being about ice and water magic, the book as dryer than the Sahara and finally, in a fit of frustration, Rowan found herself throwing the damned book at the wall of her cabin, the thick tome hitting it with a deep ‘thud’.

“What in the world possessed them to make magic  _ boring!”  _ Rowan hissed, looking at all the books in front of her. “Why couldn't they write texts that have  _ detail _ and  _ substance _ , not just the same thing repeated fourteen different times while simultaneously getting nowhere?”

Scowling at the books, she closed all of them and stacked them angrily in a pile before pushing them away with her foot. Sighing, she laid flat on the floor and stared at the ceiling, anger, and frustration a slow simmer in her chest. 

“How am I supposed to learn magic when there's nothing to-” Rowan stopped and nearly smacked herself in the face at the sudden lightbulb shining on her mind. 

_ The first mages didn't have directions! _ Rowan thought, sitting up and hurriedly began to gather supplies from around her room, mind racing.  _ And I know plenty of spells! I just have to figure out if they work  _ **_here_ ** _ or not! _

Very quickly, Rowan was sitting back on the ground, surveying her pile of pilfered items: a candle, a small metal rod, some leather straps, one of the little metal dishes on her desk, the black inkpot, one of the notebooks Josephine had passed on, a quill and several of the needles Isana had left behind after repairing a tear in her trousers.

The thing about Earth for Rowan was that she was always reading books that contained magic. The Heralds of Valdemar, the Abhorsen series, Dresden Files, Harry Potter, along with a whole slew of manga that contained some sort of magic and all the movies and tv shows that showcased it as well.

Not to mention the DnD that Rowan had played once upon a time.

She took a deep breath and decided to start with the Dresden Files. 

One thing that Heimarr and Cameron had pressed into her was that Magic responded to will, first and foremost. Harry Dresden was strong-willed and his magic seemed a good start, despite most of his repertoire being fire-based. 

Rowan hummed and faced the metal dish in front of her. She wanted enough power to throw it away from her, but not enough to blast it into smithereens. She took a slow, deep breath and focused. Her unmarked hand raised, palm open and she reached into the well in her chest. She was force, she was wind. She was unstoppable and powerful and that disk was gonna  _ move _ , damn it.

“ _ Forzare _ ” She spoke and yelped as the tiny disk  _ blasted _ away from her, hitting the wall opposite her so hard it made a dent in the wood. The disk dropped to the floor with a clang and looking closer, Rowan could see that the edge that hit the wall was bent inwards, curled like cheap plastic hit with a heat gun.

With a shaking hand, Rowan very quietly wrote the spell in her journal with a little checkmark and continued onwards.

It became apparent to Rowan as she continued into the night, that most spells that  _ worked _ were completely random.  _ Avifors  _ didn't work worth a damn, but the Acid Splash spell worked like a charm (Rowan would have to be very careful with using that one, as the acid very quickly ate through the floorboards and even the cloth Rowan put over the hole).  _ Reparo _ worked almost too well at fixing the boards until Rowan had a perfect, unstained 3x3 patch of wood randomly placed in the room. It seemed, after a bit more experimentation, that most things that required transfiguration or major changes didn't work unless there was a basis on which to change, mostly either a component or reverting to its original state.

By the time Rowan was fighting to stay awake, both mentally and magically exhausted, her notebook was half-way full of scribbles, notes and odd diagrams detailing what did or did not work. With all the fire-based spells outside of her reach, Rowan had stayed mostly to lightning, light, ice, water and even the odd shadow-based spell from most combat-oriented magic, but had found that most of the home-magics were super easy to access. 

Deciding to save runic magic, component-based magic and crystal-based spells for another day, Rowan cast a weak  _ tempus _ and found that due to Thedas not really having a number-based time system, the charm showed a circular diagram of the day, a tiny arrow pointing at where she was.

Rowan crawled into bed just after moonset and fell asleep immediately, slipping into the Fade with a content smile on her face.

Her switch over was seamless as normal, one moment darkness and the next, she was in her garden pavilion, surrounded by the colors of fall and the smell of spring. And this time, her guest was much more welcome.

“What happened last night Pragma?” Rowan whispered and the spirit flinched from where they sat, facing away from the mage. “Someone-”

“They will not disturb you again,” An unfamiliar voice said, and Rowan tensed a bit as she turned to see a new figure, their horned head bearing a crown of golden fingerbones. Their six eyes watched Rowan as the Mage looked between the two spirits, unsure of the newcomer.

“How do you know that? And who are you to say?” Rowan asked and let a little of her magic gather, her caution high after the  _ fearpainsorrow _ of the night before. But the spirit laughed instead, a deep, soft chuckle emanating from them as they walked forwards and held out a hand to Pragma, who took it gingerly. 

“I am Philautia, brother to Pragma” The new spirit rumbled, and kissed their sibling's cheek as Pragma finally faced Rowan, showcasing the deep burn mark marring their features, targeted around their now-dull cornflower blue eyes. A soft gasp left Rowan as she hurried forward to look closer and she ignored Philautia’s presence as she cupped her friend's cheek, carefully avoiding the burn.

“What happened? Are you alright?” She inquired and the spirit shook their head, hand coming up to cup Rowan’s.

“The one who invaded your space last night was not happy when I tried to interfere. I managed to help you get out, but not before it attacked me” Pragma explained quietly and smiled gently at Rowan. “I will be alright. Mother will care for me and heal my wounds when she is next available”

Rowan smiled gently and stepped back a bit, keeping hold of Pragma’s hand. “I'm glad you're alright. You said that whoever did this won't do it again?” She addressed Philautia next, looking the taller spirit in the eye. He smiled, showcasing a mouth full of sharp, even teeth.

“It is hard to wander into another's space when you don't have legs” He purred and placed his hand in the middle of Pragma’s back, guiding them back to their seat. “My family cares for you greatly, and for another to try to harm you would normally spell their end. However, we do need to get the word out that your ours”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, but her smile didn't disappear as she stood toe-to-toe with Philautia, her green eyes sparkling in a way they could not in the Over-World. “I am no-ones Philautia, and you’d do well to remember that,” She said and brushed past him, forming a large table and chairs for them all, including a pair of high plush cat-beds for the two spirits who lingered on her outskirts.

“Of course, I meant no offense” Philautia replied and watched her quietly as she changed the colors of her area to darker, more neutral tones. “Must you be so somber, Rowan?”

“Not somber Philautia. Business-like would be a more abt description” The woman waved a hand and folded herself into the chair at the head of the table, the dark wood and ruby fabric contrasting well with her pale skin and fire-colored hair, as her gown changed into a deep blue colored suit. “Sit, and tell me why you are so interested in me that you need someone to spread it around”

The spirits tensed as she spoke, exchanging glances as they felt her will, a wild and frightful thing, cast itself around them, tightening with every moment they stayed silent.

“Rowan. We cannot tell you” Pragma forced out and the woman’s eyes slid to them, curiosity and something harder in her gaze. “Please. We will tell you in time, but until you are  _ safe _ , it would only do you harm to say why” 

It took a moment for Rowan’s will to slide away, clinging like a spiderweb onto the two spirits as they took a moment to center themselves and sit carefully into two of the offered seats. Philautia cleared his throat lightly and looked to Rowan, head bowed a bit. 

“Though we cannot tell you why we are here, we can tell you that no harm will come to you under our care. We will teach you, and give you companionship in equal measure until the time comes when you can leave our care” He rumbled and Rowan sighed a bit, adjusting herself to sit more comfortably in the throne she’d made for herself.

“What will happen when I leave your care? And do we know when I do?”

“You will leave our care in good condition, with more knowledge than you came into it with. As for when, it depends on the actions of others, rather than your own. I can guess no more than you can about this.”

The Fade was quiet for a long moment, a cool breeze slithering through the trees and across their table as Rowan thought, her emotions conflicted.

“Then I would like to learn what you can teach me, so long as I remain my own” Rowan said finally, and the Fade brightened the slightest bit as Philautia and Pragma smiled, both nodding slightly.

“I think we should begin with some history, don't you?” Philautia asked his sibling, who considered it but ultimately shook their head negative.

“I believe that Rowan would prefer something a bit more focused on her desires at the moment” They responded and looked to Rowan, who was tracing patterns in the air with a glowing finger, leaving light trails lingering in the sky. “Would you like to learn how to court your Heart-Bound?” 

Rowan stilled and turned to Pragma with wide eyes. “Yes. Very much yes.” She breathed and Pragma laughed at the eagerness in her voice as the table disappeared until it was a mound of cushions in various bright colors and the spirit had a large blackboard behind them.

“Let us begin”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clandestine: kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit.


	13. Pestiferous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pestiferous: Harboring infection and disease.

As the lesson goes on, and Pragma begins to start on public displays of affection, they begin to into balls and the dancing involved, only for Rowan’s mood, and subsequently, her area, to sour and darken. Surprised, Pragma turns from the blackboard raided from Rowan’s willing thoughts and sees Rowan frowning deeply at the table, her hands tightly clenched.

“Rowan? Is everything alright?” They ask lightly and Rowan’s eyes flickered up, remembering how her emotions affected the world around her. 

“I can't dance” She muttered, waving her hand and dismissing the question. “Can we skip this part?”

“What do you mean you can't dance? We can teach you, darling, that's why we're here” Philautia spoke, and flinched at the sudden wave of self-loathing he felt coming from Rowan before it was squashed down. 

“I  _ mean _ I physically can't dance. My last leg might have been able to, but only if I was leading. With the one I have now? No chance in hell” Rowan said, taking a deep, unneeded breath. “I would like to skip this subject,  _ please _ ” 

The two siblings exchanged a look, before Philautia stood up from his chair, walking over to Rowan. The girl watched him carefully and glared at him when he offered his hand, bowing.

“Dance with me,” He asked, and Rowan stared at him, her anger slowly simmering.

“Philautia-”

“If you cannot dance in your reality, at least dance in ours” He insisted and smiled at her. “Once, you loved it. Even if waking doesn't give you what you want, you can have it here for as long as you dream. Dance with me.” His tone lowered and softened, hand still outstretched, clawed fingers splayed open as if to receive a gift.

After a moment, Rowan took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. “We need a dance floor” She muttered and tapped her spiral against the ground. Beneath their feet, the Fade began to change to her wishes, surprising the spirits with how quickly it went.

The table and chairs moved along the wave, swept away as the grass became a polished silver and black marble circle, surrounded by gold filigree. The twin trees became pillars, multiplying across the floor as wire fences became stone walls and archways, Rowan’s field becoming a courtyard, the morning light becoming sunset twilight, red and purple light filtering in between the pillars and crystalline glass ceiling. 

Deep green vines climbed the pillars, small budding roses shining with starlight as they bloomed. The spirit's clothes and Rowan’s own changed with a quick thought until Pragma was dressed in a dark robe of blue and Philautia was wearing a suit in deepest purple, accented by golden threads and a wreath of purple heather. Rowan’s own simple dress became a ballgown in deepest red, backless, sleeveless and slit along the side to show her starlight-spiral.

The spirits looked at Rowan’s creation with open glee, the male-presenting one chuckling deeply as he spun Rowan lightly, eliciting a squeal.

“I believe my sibling has said so before, but truly you make beautiful constructs” He purred and looked down at the girl in his arms, as a light blush coated her cheeks. 

“I like pretty things” She defended lightly and raised her arm to rest on his waist, the other grasping his hand. “Mind if I lead?”

“My Pride will not be harmed, I assure you,” He said and Pragma placed the needle down on the vinyl player Rowan had placed down in replacement of the blackboard. Soft, deep music with a deep, thrumming beat began to play and Rowan followed along, leading Philautia in a slow waltz.

The anger from before was quick to melt away from Rowan as she leads Philautia, a quiet joy bleeding into the space as they dance. From between the pillars, Rowan could see her two shyer spirits enter the area, the twin cats winding around the legs of chairs before leaping up into the cat-beds placed on them. The one with the broken neck purs as the cleaner one cleans them, and for a moment, Rowan is free and happy in this little space, content to dance as Philautia switches their roles, letting herself be lead.

But, before long, the peace was broken, a familiar voice interrupting the dance and quiet contentment radiating from the occupants.

“Herald?” Solas asked, entering her space from the archway in the center of the walls. His eyes were wide as he took in the vision before him, Rowan’s red dress and Philautia’s suit catching the eye immediately. 

The music, now softer and lyrical, stopped suddenly as the vinyl player cracked in half.

The world went grey as Rowan’s fear spiked, spreading like a wildfire along the edges of her space, and she disappeared from the Fade, waking at the sight of her Soulmate wandering into a place she didn't know that he could reach.

She shot up with a gasp, choking on air and still dressed in her clothes from the day before. She was alone in the room and a look to the window showed faint sunlight, making Rowan figure she’d been asleep for maybe a few hours, as the sun hadn't fully reached above the mountains. 

She flopped back down on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as she passed a hand down her face. Solas had seen her in the Fade. He had seen her with her spirits, who she knew very well were in fact a small sect of Demons, and had seen her in their arms.

There was a stigma on being friends with spirits, on knowing demons and dancing with them under dream-born stars. She knew from the conversation the day before and the books she’d read that most Circle mages stayed far away from spirits unless binding them, and Rowan knew she could never bind Pragma and their siblings, or her still-unintroduced cat-shaped friends.

How would Solas take that? Would he tell Cassandra? Would he prevent her from meeting them again? Would-?

A knock sounded on her door, sharp and precise.

“Open the door Herald,” Solas’ voice said from beyond the wooden shield. “I know you are awake, and we need to talk.” Rowan stared at the door, hands clenching, tempted to jump out the window, before she took a deep breathe and walked over, jerking open the door with a swift motion.

The older mage looked her up and down, face impassive as Rowan carefully ut on her own mask, stepping aside from the door and motioning him in without a word. His steps into the cabin were careful and measured, even as he absorbed each new scattered note, fleck of ash or burn that had come from her workings the night before.

“You have been practicing” He murmured, carefully perching into her desk chair and picking up one of the books she had thrown there. “I understand Cameron has been teaching you without Talan and I?”

“He has,” Rowan answered shortly, watching him warily as he flipped through the pages. 

“Has your barbarian been doing so as well? Teaching you magic?” Solas placed the first book down and picked up the second in a swift motion that betrayed nothing. Rowan, however, found herself clenching her jaw and quickly releasing it as she took the book from his hand in a much more hasty gesture.

“His  _ name _ , Master Solas, is Heimarr, and he is no more a barbarian than you are” She hissed, carefully not slamming the book onto her desk. “If you are here to lecture me about the company I keep, I must remind you that you are amongst them and would ask you to leave if you can no longer bear that fact.”

The tone of her voice was cold, and her words sharp enough that Solas’ mask cracked a bit at them, his impassivity becoming a bit more readable. There was disappointment in them, yes, but curiosity also and something deeper, colder, that Rowan could not reach.

“I have not come to lecture you on your company, Herald, it was only a question” He deflected. “I merely wonder who you have been following more, your Circle mage or your Heimarr?”

“Neither” Rowan placed the book back on her shelf, carefully distancing herself from Solas. “Both have their uses and ways of teaching, but I prefer a free-form method. Is that all you wanted to ask?”

There was silence from the elf as he watched her place the rest of her books on the shelf, organizing in some system he couldn't understand. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the very careful way she held herself, like a storm caught in a jar with a broken lid. If he wasn't careful, the storm would break out and he would cut himself trying to defend himself.

“Spirits can be good companions so long as you remember their natures,” He said diplomatically, watching her pause in her organization. 

“Oh?”

“I too have someone I contact often in the Fade. A spirit of Wisdom who I have known for a very long time.” His tone was careful as she turned, looking at him unsure of what he was saying. “Yes, spirits have known to possess mages, but they have also been known to be good companions to those who treat them with respect”

Rowan stared at him, silent but open to his words in a way that made him pause, remembering the Anchor in her hand, ready to sink her into the mire of his influence. 

“I don't want Cassandra to know,” She said finally, breaking the silence and shaking him from his musings. “She’d cage me in, more than she already has, and I can't let that happen.” 

“I cannot promise she will not find out” Solas began and held up a hand when Rowan went to speak. “But she will not hear it from me, so long as I am allowed to join you. I fear that despite my respect for them and their companionship, being around them too long may cause damages, both to you and your magic.”

Rowan snorted, smiling finally. “Funny, they said the same thing about you. Now come on. I'm starving and need to speak to Talan about eating  _ actual _ food.” The girl grabbed a jacket from the stand next to her door and tied her hair up into a messy bun before opening the door and ushering him through. 

He allowed himself to be escorted out, filing away her comment and followed Rowan as she made her way quickly to the Healer’s tent at the top of the hill near the Chantry, where Rowan pushed aside the curtain with much less enthusiasm, poking her head in the tent. The Healer they were looking for was easy to find, a towering silver figure in dark robes, with his horned head, bent over a desk as he wrote something on a piece of parchment.

“Talan? Can I talk to you?” Rowan asked as they neared his desk, making Talan look up from his papers. His dark eyes looked the two of them over, his mind automatically searching for injuries.

“Of course Rowan. What can I do for you? Do you need some tea? I'm sure I have a few doses somewhere” He trailed off, looking around as Rowan’s brow furrowed. 

“What tea? No, I was wondering when I would be able to eat regular food again and stop taking that medicine you’ve been plying me with. I'm getting a little tired of it.” She looked confused at the subject and Talan stopped looking around, closing the drawer he was sorting through.

“When? To be honest, I am not sure. You’ve been recovering well enough, but your body is still reacting strangely to the stimulus I had originally put it through.”

“What stimulus?”

“Magic” Talan responded shortly and motioned Rowan to get up onto the cot near them. “Mind taking off your jacket and overshirt? Now you see, most mages have, not an immunity per se, but an acclimation to their own magic, making it harder for them to hurt themselves unless they really have the will to. But you? There is nothing. No acclimation, nothing saying you're used to your own magic, it's as if you've never used it before.”

“That's because I haven't” Rowan deadpanned, shrugging off her jacket and peeling off her overshirt, revealing her scars, well-built muscle, and metallic, unembellished Soulmarks. “I only got my magic when the Breach opened. Even though I’ve used it a little bit, I'm still pretty new to it.”

Both Talan and Solas stared at her for a moment, Talan at the concept of her not having magic and Solas at the sight of her Soulmarks, now fully on display. 

“What?”

“We have a lot to discuss, it would seem” Talan muttered and gently took Rowan’s Marked hand in his, the vibrant green a deep contrast to her pale pink skin. “With you having no magic until recently, it would make sense for you not to have built up defenses, but I have no way of knowing what's normal for you. Would you mind staying on as my patient? That way I can monitor how your body reacts to both your magic, and another’s if worse comes to worst.”

Rowan snorted, a small smile coming onto her face as Talan checked her over, taking measurements and checking her reflexes. “Talan, if I can finally eat meat again, you can monitor me all you want”

Both the younger mages chuckled lightly as Talan finished his preliminary check-up, Solas watching the exchange quietly.

“Now Rowan, here comes the weird part,” Talan said, picking up a small stone from a nearby table, which lit a quiet green in his hands. “This little thing is a Bond-checker. It can measure your Soulbonds and tell us how strong they are, and if they are going to become problems in the future. Blue is best, green is good, yellow is slightly worrying and red is bad enough it can harm the bond if left unchecked. I need you to hold this alright?” 

Rowan’s eyes widened as Talan let the stone go, about to flinch away as she watched the stone fall in slow motion.

It touched her hand, and they all watched as the stone lit up like a star.

“Oh shit” Rowan whispered, and Talan swallowed hard, his dark eyes wide as they were lit by the glowing blood-red stone.

Solas left the tent.


	14. Obnubilate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! I wrote a good chunk of this between the hours of 5-8 AM the morning this was posted.
> 
> Have some angst and fluff!
> 
> Trigger Warning: Self-harm in the form of starving oneself.
> 
> Obnubilate: Darken or cover with or as if with a cloud; obscure.

There was a long tense silence in the tent as Rowan heard more than saw Solas leave the tent and Talan stared at the stone in her hand, vibrant crimson looking like a bloodstain on her palm. Very carefully, she placed the stone down on the bed, watching the light sputter out like a dying star and stood to leave herself, when a gentle but firm hand grasped her bare bicep, just between Varric and Cassandra’s Marks.

“Rowan-” He started and stopped when Rowan gave him a pained smile, her hand coming up and carefully squeezing his grasping hand.

“I already knew Talan. There's nothing any of us can do about it, believe me.” She said quietly, peeling his hand from her. “I will talk to you later.”

“They are hurting you!” The Healer snapped as she made her way to the tent entrance, picking up her overshirt and jacket and slipping them on as she walked away. “How can I believe you about something like that when the person who holds our fate in her hands is bleeding out from the inside?”

“It's simple” Rowan responded, voice cordial and even as she peeled back the tent flaps. “Just don't think about it”

Talan watched her leave the tent and turned his gaze to the stone on the bed before clenching his jaw, snatching it up and following her out. 

Rowan ignored Talan as she heard him walk behind her, and then beside her when his longer legs caught up to her in only a few paces. She stayed silent as she leads them back to her cabin, where she ducked behind a screen and changed her dirty clothes for a warmer, cleaner set, the neutral colors a far cry from the world in her dreams.

Looking closely and thinking quietly as she came out from behind the screen, she muttered a quick spell, making the drab cream of her shirt into deep indigo and her brown trousers into a deep black. She could hear Talan’s sharp intake as she worked the magic, turning her entire outfit to match the night sky. 

Their next stop was outside of Haven’s walls, Talan following Rowan like a ghost as she made her way to the Blacksmith’s building, green eyes seeking out Harritt amongst the milling men and women bearing tools and weapons of all shapes and sizes.

“Harritt! I need to speak to you about something.” Rowan announced as she found the man, the bald human looking over pages of plans. His eyebrows raised at her choice of clothing, but he didn't comment as she came closer, looking like she was on a mission. “I was wondering what my Advisors had said to you about my armor for our journey to the Crossroads.”

“Your armor? As a mage, your armor would be minimal and mostly cloth to ensure free movement. But from what I can see about you, you’d likely prefer something more substantial?” Harrit guessed, looking at her clothing, and the way she held herself, looking like more like one of the Templars rather than one of the Mages.

“You’d be correct” Rowan agreed and sat carefully in the chair Harrit waved her into and took the papers he passed to her. The original armor was simple cloth, with almost no coverage for a blade or arrow if Rowan was in range. Her inner-Knight rankled at the concept and she quickly shook her head, handing back the papers. “Do you have any spare armor I might be able to sort through? I'm more of a front-line than a back-line and if I try to fight in that, I'm gonna be in pieces real quick.”

Harrit snorted and motioned her to get up, leading her to the back of the smithery. “I already got somethings ready for you Herald. I gotta read people quick on what's needed, and I think this ought to suit you better” Harrit dug a small wrapped bundle out from a chest hidden in the corner, placed away from the rest. 

Carefully, Rowan took it and began to unwrap it, only for Harrit to stop her, shaking his head. 

“Don't go opening that yet Herald. The Seeker or the Commander see that before your out in the field and they’ll make you give it back, no matter that it's made special for ya. Keep it close, keep it hidden, got it?” He warned and was treated to a wide smile from Rowan, her white teeth and green eyes nearly glowing in the dim light away from the fires.

“I will. Thank you, Harritt.” Rowan gave him a quiet bow and he shook his head, leading her back out into the front to see Talan talking to a smith, whose hands were holding a small locket made from some sort of green metal. “Talan, what are you doing?”

The Healer’s head snapped up from his conversation and he looked both grim and determined as he took the locket from the smith with a murmured ‘Thank You’. Walking over, she could see the locket was wider and thicker than she would have guessed, and the chain was thick where it swung from his hand.

“I want you to wear this Rowan,” The Healer said, coming around Rowan and not giving her a chance to say no before it was fastened around her neck. “It holds that stone I showed you, and I think having this close may help monitor your...situation” Talan’s words were purposefully vague, she realized, as the crowd around her vied for a look at what the Healer had given her.

Rowan plastered a smile on her face as she thanked Talan, her eyes the only thing showing her anger. But Talan didn't flinch as they left Harritt’s, Rowan’s hand squeezing a little too tight on his forearm as he lead them back to the cabin to drop off her bundle.

“I don't need this” Rowan muttered aside to him as they made their way back. Her tone, although soft, was angry and he could feel her nails digging into his skin as they walked. “It will only serve as a reminder, which I very plainly do not need” 

“Or I can use it to monitor your condition” Talan murmured back as they finally got to the door of the cabin. “It is my belief that your bond is the cause of your weakness-”

Talan was cut off as he was suddenly pinned against the wall of Rowan’s cabin, his mouth snapping shut as he gazed down at Rowan in surprise. Her eyes were wide and he felt a shiver go down his spine as he watched them spark, the Breach-green of them a warning.

“I am not  _ weak _ ” Rowan hissed, her voice low and angry. “There is no  _ weakness _ to cure, no Bond to fix, no condition to  _ cure _ ” Her voice changed from a hiss to a growl as she went on until Talan was swallowing hard as he felt her press him harder into the wall, her hands threatening to tear his clothes. “I am fine _. And you will leave me alone _ ”

Talan was let go so quickly that he didn't have time to steady himself as he sunk to the ground, gazing up at Rowan as she stood above him, shaking and pale. 

“Leave” 

Rowan didn't watch as her would-be friend scrambled up and high-tailed it out of her cabin, too busy trying to calm the beating of her heart and the building of her magic inside her, threatening to spill over into her cabin, sparks already dripping like blood from her fingertips.

With a thud, Rowan sunk onto the ground, ignoring the jarring pain of her stump as the false leg buckled underneath her. She let herself zone out, concentrating on only her breathing, even as she was consciously aware of someone coming into the cabin. 

The person, bigger than she and stronger, scooped her up from the floor and simply held her against them as they settled, Rowan trying desperately not to cry, not to be weak, not to break. The feeling of skin touching hers, the smell of winter and pine, so much like home, culled the tempest in her chest slowly until Rowan could breathe without exhaling ozone and speak without her voice coming out like thunder.

“How did you know?” She rasped against Heimarr as he gently undid her braids, combing his fingers through her curls as they sat on her bed, Rowan cradled in his lap. He didn't answer for a moment until he very gently placed his hand on her wrist and she could feel a quiet pulse of  _ concernfeargrief _ under her own. The feeling of alien emotions was strange, but it hurt to realize it was only because their Bond had already formed that he had come for her.

“I could feel you, even in my sleep” Heimarr rumbled quietly, his fingers still threading through her hair. “I was strange at first until I realized what I was feeling. I came as soon as I could.”

“What did you feel?”

“Pain. There was anger there, then sorrow then joy and but underneath them all I could feel  _ pain _ , overwhelming despite everything layer atop it. Who causes you such pain?”

Rowan sighed and pressed her forehead into Heimarr’s fur-cloaked chest. “No one but me, my darling. I ask for too much, and I have been punished for it.” She murmured and blinked back tears as a memory of her Mother saying the same when she was younger washed through her mind. 

Heimarr didn't speak after that, seemingly lost for words as they sat together. His fingers gave up trying to tame her curls, instead binding them in intricate plaits as the sun rode to zenith in the sky above them. Even when he was done with her braids, he stayed silent, holding her as Haven woke fully and the noise started back up outside.

“I'm leaving soon” Rowan broke the silence quietly, her sentence ringing like a bell in the dim cabin. “I'm supposed to leave for the Hinterlands with a group in a few days to aid at the Crossroads.”

Heimarr hummed, tucking her a little closer. “How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks? Hopefully less, but from what I’ve heard, it's a bit of a mess.” Rowan calculated quietly in her mind the travel time (2-3 days) along with everything she might have to do. The concept was daunting now that she thought about it more, and even with her training, she had a feeling being overwhelmed was going to be a running theme.

“Then I will be here ready to help you when you get back,” The Avvar said, tipping her head back to look at him. “Eina has already decided that I am to stay here, along with some of our warriors. She likes you, and approves of our match, for all it is still new. You will not be alone in your Havenhold, that is for certain”

Rowan gave a wet chuckle and closed her eyes, tipping her face into his hand. “Thank you” She breathed, almost smiling again. “I don't think you know how much that means to me.”

“I can guess” He murmured and adjusted them in the bed. “Now, how about we get you something to eat? We’ve been here long enough.”

Rowan groaned and frowned up at him a bit. “I'm not hungry” She lied, ignoring the gnawing in her stomach and the slight shaking that she tried to hide due to low blood sugar. “You go on without me” 

Heimarr looked down at her with narrowed eyes, before shaking his head. “I will bring us some food” He stated, getting up and allowing Rowan to stand. His hand cupped her cheek gently as he made her look in his eyes, something very serious in his expression. “And you  _ will _ eat something. It doesn't have to be much, nor does it have to be all, but you will eat. Understand?”

Rowan looked back at him, the stubborn instinct in her immediately wanting to push back against the care he showed and the order he gave. But, too tired to fight, she nodded and tried not to blush when he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek as he left the cabin. 

She spent the time it took for him to grab breakfast/lunch to wash her face and change into her more comfortable shift and thick leggings, folding her barely-worn clothes carefully before placing them in the chest at the foot of her bed. Her leg went into its spot next to her bedpost as she lit a candle with a lightning spark and threw one of the fire-starters in the fireplace. By the time Heimarr arrived back, he had to suppress a sigh at the sight before him, as he took in Rowan’s half-asleep form curled up in her bed, a book laid open in her lap.

He woke her up gently and placed the bowl containing a thick stew in her hands. They ate automatically, and he hid a smile when he saw more than half her bowl was gone before she put it down and leaned against him, worn out from the day's events.

“If you would like to sleep, I can leave” He whispered, as Rowan blinked slowly at the wall, her emotions now sluggish through the bond.

“I would like to rest, but I would like it more if you stayed,” She said, equally as quiet, as if she were speaking a time-worn secret. Her hand grasped at his furs, the scars on her knuckles shining silver in the firelight.

“Let me finish this and we can sleep” He stated and Rowan nodded, already shifting her weight to slide into the covers. He finished his meal quickly, before stripping off the metal of his armor, his boots placed carefully by the bedside. He hesitated for a moment on how to sleep before Rowan sleepily lifted the covers, deciding for him. He slipped in and pulled her to him gently, front to front with her head tucked beneath his own.

“Rest little kitten” He muttered, making Rowan snort.

“Not a kitten” She whispered back, voice already slurring. 

Heimarr chuckled at her sleepy response, his eyes growing heavy quickly, feeding off Rowan’s contentment.

“Of course not. Now, sleep.”

The Fade was quiet when he entered, but he quickly found he wasn't alone in it. Rowan’s form had carried over from their waking realm and she was still curled in his arms when they arrived. Beyond her, he could see stone and marble walls, the light of a single full moon lighting the dim room. 

In the halls surrounding them, music was playing and he could hear talking, the sounds and words too muffled for him to parse out without leaving. 

“It's just Pragma and Philautia,” Rowan’s voice said below him, making him look to her. Her eyes glowed here, deep pools of green lightning that seemed to crackle and flash around the void of her pupils. Her smile was soft as they slid off him to look to the door. “I left a little quickly last night. I'm sure they're worried.”

He was quiet as Rowan crawled out of his arms, noticing the dress that garbed her, clinging like blood to her skin and making her look dangerous as she reached the closed door and pried it open. He stood up to join her after a moment's contemplation, grasping her hand and following her along the winding halls, the marble and black stone swirling together and changing with every step until he felt dizzy.

Only her hand gripped tight in his and warm in a way that felt soothing in the chilled halls of the Fade-castle, kept him stable as finally, they arrived into a courtyard full of the tall figures of Spirits dressed much like Rowan.

“Rowan!” One of them shouted and Heimarr felt her hand slip from his as the Pride dressed in gaudy purple and gold snatched her up, spinning her in their arms. “You left so suddenly! Is the Old One so frightening to you that you felt the need to leave?”

“Do we need to take care of him?” Another spirit offered, this one a Desire clad in blue robes. Heimarr could see their eyes linger on him as Heimarr scanned over the other four Spirits that lingered on the sidelines, two in the form of animals and another two standing on two feet. “And who is your guest?”

“Pragma, this is Heimarr. He’s one of my Bonded. Be nice” Rowan chastised the Spirit lightly at their tone and Heimarr gave the spirit a salute in greeting. “As for Solas, I was just surprised. The issue has been taken care of. I see you too have brought your own guests?”

Pragma nodded, their horned head motioning over to the standing spirits. “My sibling Eros and my friend Intrepidity” The first, a peach-skinned Desire waves, their golden eyes twinkling like jewels in their perfect, supple face. In contrast, Heimarr has to hold his breath when the Fear smiles, too wide and too sharp, their limbs long and jointed strangely.

Heimarr dislikes their insectoid eyes as they linger on Rowan’s form, still held within her Pride’s arms.

“It's nice to meet the both of you” Rowan greets and slips out of Philautia’s arms to greet them properly. Eros giggles when Rowan kisses their cheek, pink cheeks becoming blush red and eyes half-lidded. Intrepidity titters, their voice and laugh multi-tonal and grating like a knife-

“Calm yourself human” A whisper comes from his side, looking down to see one of the cat-Spirits looking up to him. Their broken neck and cloudly eyes make him swallow, despite his past dealings with other spirits. “Our girl will not be harmed here, and as her Bonded, neither will you.” Their jagged legs allow them to walk away in a way that shouldn't be possible, to join the other cat-Spirit, who begins to clean the matted blood that lingers on their fur.

Sighing, Heimarr settles on a ledge to the garden as Rowan is led into a slow dance with Eros, her dress shifting to something much shorter. 

From over her shoulder, Eros winks at him as the knee-length gown flares out after a spin, showing the pale cream of her thighs and the metallic marks that graced them. 

Heimarr stayed by the sidelines for the duration of Rowan’s dancing, content to be quiet as she was passed amongst the spirits, her previous mood lifting with each dance. By the time she had gone through them all, the pain across their bond had lessened until it was only a deep ache, rather than a cutting wound.

“Did you have fun?” Heimarr asked as Rowan made her way over to him, pulling her gently into his lap. The contrast between them was amusing, her short, sparkling dress against his paint and furs.

“I did” Rowan whispered and leaned against his chest, watching as her spirit friends as they mingled, chattering and eating some of the food that had appeared on the table. “Thank you.”

The Avvar hummed, knowing the words were double-sided. “You are welcome. Now come on. We should wake up and get you ready for your journey”

He felt the soft kiss Rowan pressed to his cheek and woke up feeling warm with her still curled up in her arms.

The mood was ruined however, by the sound of a bow-string being stretched and the voice that accompanied it.

“Step away from the Herald and put your hands up” She hissed and Heimarr sighed deeply.

So much for an easy rest of the day.


	15. Canorous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from her cave*
> 
> im sorry for not updating the last three weeks
> 
> *drops this and runs away*
> 
> Canorous: Melodious; musical

Heimarr, no stranger to having sharp things pointed in his direction, was slow to turn over and face the person holding the loaded bow. An elven woman, with deep brown skin and a facial tattoo that marked her as Dalish, stared down at him from behind the bow. Next to her, another woman, dwarrow this time, held a pair of wickedly sharp daggers.

Neither looked happy to see him.

“I can explain,” He said very slowly and the elven woman’s eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching on the bow-string.

Before she could order him again, the smell of ozone filled the room as Rowan slowly rose from where she had been curled up against him, her green eyes tired but alert.

“Athras, put down the bow” Rowan ordered and the elf, Athras, looked at her in question. 

“Herald?”

“Do as I say. I will explain when your weapons are put away and I am allowed to get out of my bed to get dressed.” Athras hesitated and the smell of ozone strengthened. The bow was lowered and the tension released slowly as Athras complied with the request. Beside her, the silent dwarf woman sheathed her own knives but didn't take her eyes off Heimarr as he got out of the bed and allowed Rowan to get out after him. 

The younger woman didn't talk to any of them as she put her leg on and made her way to the dressing screen in the corner of her room, picking her neatly folded clothes on the way. Her companions stared at each other silently as she threw on her clothes from earlier in the day, tying her hair back into a high bun rather than it's normal braid. By the time she was done getting dressed, the silence in the cabin was nigh unbearable.

Finally, Rowan broke it as she sat at her desk chair, eyes wandering over Athras and Isana. “Do you always point arrows at men who grace other’s beds? Or am I just special?” She drawled and Athras winced a bit.

“He was a stranger Your Grace, and you don't seem the type to let strangers into your bed. I was worried for your safety” She said, meeting Rowan’s eyes. “You’ve shown no signs of a paramour other than that Amell mage, and even now I’m not completely sure about the relationship”

Rowan grimaced, nodding. “You are correct about the stranger thing, and I thank you for considering my safety. However, Heimarr is my Bonded and I hope you will not cause him harm. I am also sorry for not telling you about Heimarr before now, but yesterday was a bit...busy.” She looked up to the Avvar and held out her hand, offering it palm up. The elf and dwarf watched as Heimarr walked over and knelt on the ground beside Rowan, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.

  
“Then, sharing your bed, were you...” Isana trailed off, suddenly aware she was about to ask the woman who amounted to her boss if she was having sex. However, Rowan caught onto the implication and gave a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“No, Isana, we weren't having sex. I was distressed by the morning's events, and Heimarr wanted to comfort me. A nap and cuddles seemed to be a good idea, and I feel much better now” Rowan smiled as Athras and Isana blushed a bit at her blunt language, remembering that Thedas was a bit more prudish than Rowan was used too.

“May I ask what caused you distress Herald? Is there anything that needs to be taken care of?” Athras latched onto the latter part of Rowan’s explanation, glad to find a way out of an awkward conversation before it started in earnest. Rowan could feel Heimarr’s hand tighten slightly around hers and her eyes flickered to him, feeling the concern running like a river under their bond.

“If you wish to know, you may ask Talan for more. But, I do not want to talk about it and it is not something that can be changed” She said finally and forcibly relaxed her shoulders. “Now, I am starving and have been cleared to eat actual food. Shall we wander into the tavern for some dinner?”

Heimarr cleared his throat beside her, calling attention to himself from the three women. “I would prefer to eat with my own people if you would be amiable. Your people are still afraid of those like me, and I would like not to be stared at.” He rumbled and Rowan got a considering look on her face. 

“Would Eina protest if we were to join you? She and I were unable to finish our conversation yesterday” Rowan asked, looking to Athras and Isana as she made the offer, but didn't hear a protest from either as they nodded, curiosity written plainly on Isana’s face.

“I think she would happy if you joined us Bonded” Heimarr replied and stood to his full height, towering over everyone else in the room. He helped Rowan up from her chair and put on his armor and boots as Athras and Isana debated quietly on whether their weapons were welcome into the Avvar’s camp. “You may keep your weapons friends. We only ask that they are sheathed or unstrung while you are with us”

“Barring emergency” Rowan piped up, shrugging on a thin sweater. She frowned down at the material and made a note to talk to someone about a thicker coat. Heimarr nodded distractedly as he slid his own boot knife into its place and slipped his axe into his belt.

“If someone comes for you, my Rowan, they will have to contend with me on first blood” He promised and Rowan had to push down a blush at the casual words as he tangled their fingers together as they left the cabin. 

The small group got a few stares from the people milling around Haven, most still unused to the sight of an Avvar, and even more unused to seeing them holding hands with the supposed Herald of their Maker’s Bride. But, they were not disturbed as they went down the stairs and out of Haven, Heimarr leading the way to a specific tent on the ice, decorated with a large raven with its wings outspread.

“Hail, Eina Huntmaster! Have you room at your fire?” Heimarr hollered as they got close and Rowan could see the Huntmaster in question raise her head and peer at them before a grin split her face and her hand raised to wave them over.

“Hail to you Augur Heimarr. Well met, Rowan of Haven. Whom do you bring with you?” Eina greeted formally, inspecting the two new people she did not recognize. Rowan inclined her head at the greeting and smiled a bit more sedately.

“A happy day to you, Huntmaster. I bring my friends, Athras of Clan Lavellan and Isana of House Cadash” Rowan motioned to each woman in turn, uncaring of the way the exchanged glances at the word ‘friend’. “Heimarr says your fire would not be too crowded if we joined you for a meal?”

“He is correct. Sit, there is plenty of room and the Druffalo in the hills make good eating once defeated” Eina looked into the pot on her fire, that Rowan could only smell meat and the vague sharp smell of an unknown vegetable. Heimarr lead her over to one of the curved logs and sat next to her, while Athras and Isana sat close by, watching both the Huntmaster and the other Avvar with a wariness that made Rowan want to roll her eyes.

“How was your first night in Haven’s lands Huntmaster? I trust it went alright?” Rowan asked, leaning against her natural curiosity in the awkward silence. “No accidents involving drunks?”

“Not as far as I am aware. There were some unkind comments by some of your people towards our Augurs, but their words are less burr and more thorn in their harm. Sharp, but easy to remove” Eina replied and added some white crystals to the soup, which made Rowan look a little closer.

“Did you just add salt?” She asked, incredulous. The soup from earlier had been bland, saltless and more broth than meat. But if the Avvar had salt-

“Of course. Do you not like salt? I have heard some low-landers do not season their food as we do-”

“Eina, if you didn't add salt, I would cry” Rowan blurted, making the Huntmaster blink and Isana choke on a laugh. “The soup Heimarr and I ate earlier had no seasoning and I miss  _ salt _ , which is not something I thought I’d  _ ever _ miss”

“Well,” Eina said after a moment, disgesting Rowan’s declaration and beginning to ladle soup into an earthen bowl. “Then I will not begrudge you your salt. Have you other spices that you like?”

“Pepper, rosemary, thyme, garlic, chilies, onions, sugar, molasses. Pretty much anything that enhances the flavor of something” Rowan said off-hand, accepting the bowl with both hands and smelling it. The vegetable she couldn't identify was some sort of white tuber, and she could also see shredded leaves mixed in, the formerly heart-shaped leaves now wilted.

There was a sound of disbelief from her left that she ignored as she dug in, noticing Heimarr doing the same beside her. The other bowls were passed out in due order, Eina serving herself last and the fire lapsed into mostly silence as they ate. The meal was over quickly, Rowan and Heimarr finishing theirs within seconds of each other, Rowan placing hers in her lap to warm her hands from the residual heat coming off of the bowl.

“You are a quick eater,” Heimarr remarked, studying her. “Where was this hunger before?”

“Hidden away. No matter how hungry I am, if I am upset, I normally can't stomach more than a few bites. If I do more, it tends to come back up” Rowan explained away easily, turning the bowl slowly in her hands. He made a small humming noise as he gently took the bowl from her and passed it to Eina, who was watching them both carefully. 

She certainly did not miss the smile that flickered onto Rowan’s face when Heimarr took her hands in his, trying to warm her. 

“Are you cold Rowan? I notice you wear little, despite your titles” The Huntmaster remarked, slyly eyeing Athras and Isana, whose armor and thick clothing were made for winter. Beside them, Rowan’s red long sleeve tunic and trews were flimsy clothes more designed for summer, despite the sweater she wore on top of them.

“A little” The younger woman admitted. “I don't have a lot of clothes, and while what I have is nice, not all of it is  _ warm _ ” 

“One moment, I will fix this” Heimarr said and let Rowan go to get up from the fire. He wandered over to one of the tents, before ducking into it for a moment. When he came back out, he carried a coat that looked too small for him in his hands, the dark fur glistening in the fireplace as he came closer. “Take that coat off and put this on instead.”

Blinking, Rowan did as she was bid, slipping off one garment for another and found herself even more surprised when the jacket fit well on her frame, still a bit big, but warm nonetheless. “It fits!”

“Hmm. It seems you are only slightly smaller than Madri” Eina mused, eyeing the coat. “Heimarr, did you not make that for her?”

Heimarr snorted and shook his head. “My dear sister finds my stitching worse than yours, and would rather I stick to making meals and killing our dinner.” He smiled as he watched Rowan not-so-subtly bury her face into the furs. “But it seems Rowan likes it just fine”

“I'm keeping this” The girl in question muttered and the fire burst into snickers as she burrowed even harder into the coat. “I'm warm and I am not leaving. By the way, what is this made from? It's really soft.”

“Wolf fur” Heimarr smiled as Athras’ head snapped over to him, her eyes wide. “I hunted the beast myself after it injured some of our people. The meat was eaten during a celebration after, but I was allowed to take the skin and bones for myself.”

Rowan hummed lightly and smiled as she leaned against him. “I like it. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome” He chuckled and turned to Eina. “Have you decided to bless us with song tonight? I know that Madri has brought along your harp and that guitar you traded for.”

Eina shook her head and leaned back on her log, bracing herself with her hands. “No, I think that it would be best if another sings during the Circle. I have too many thoughts on my mind to concentrate on a song.”

“Like?” Rowan prompted, green eyes barely showing over the coat’s fur. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, unfortunately, but thank you” Eina smiled lightly at the younger woman. “It is simply the duty of a Huntmaster while away from her Hold. My people are restless and unsure of their places, while others are preparing for their positions here. Heimarr, as he has likely told you, will be staying, but he will not be leading those who chose to stay”

“Oh? Then who is leading?” Isana asked, eyes wandering through the ranks of Avvar, as though she could pick the leader-to-be out from the milling crowd.

“My brother Aldwin.” Eina did Isana a favor and pointed out a man in the crowd. His hair was dark and cut short, and his skin where it peeked out beneath the paint on his cheeks and chest was a deep caramel color, matching Eina’s. “He is a good leader and will bring good things to our agreement. Heimarr will be lead Augur, but the other magic-bloods will follow me back to the Hold until we have a better understanding of what is needed” 

“I look forward to working with him then” Rowan acknowledged, and the chatter by the fire dissolved into less serious topics. Rowan kept mostly quiet as the conversation wandered on, letting the others carry it in a winding path. Isana was very curious about the clan, while Athras was wondering about their dealings with other Dalish clans. Heimarr and Eina were happy to explain the social dynamics, Rowan found, and even though it wasn't talked about explicitly, she could tell some of it was relevant to her in regards to some of the customs.

But, soon enough, the sun had begun to set and their fire was approached by a familiar face.

“It is time for Circle, my Wife” Madri said as she came closer, jolting Eina out of a lengthy story she was telling to the group. “Will you be joining us?”

“I will join, but I cannot sing tonight beloved” Eina smiled and pulled Madri down gently to sit beside her. The two women shared a soft kiss, Eina still smiling as she continued. “I do, however, have some guests that might join us if they wish to. Isana, Athras, Rowan? Will you sit in on our Circle?”

“What is your Circle? You mentioned it before but didn't explain” Rowan piped up and she saw Madri hide a smile at the sight of her still swathed in the wolf-fur coat. 

“It is a time for the Hold to get together after a day’s work and relax. There is song, food, stories. You are not obligated to share anything but another voice is always welcome by the fire, so long as it is kind” Madri explained. “There also instruments to borrow if you know how to play.”

The red-head looked to her two bodyguards/friends and saw an eager curiousness in both of them that she internally echoed. Turning back to Madri, she nodded. “I think we’d be delighted to join you,” She said finally and smiled when felt Heimarr squeeze her hand lightly where it was resting in his own.

Madri leads them all over to a larger fire near the middle of the encampment, already swarming with the other Avvar and motions them all to take seats near her and Eina, showing a measure of certainty as she places Rowan and Heimarr to Eina’s left while Madri sits to the Huntmaster’s right. Isana and Athras tuck themselves next to Rowan again, but there is a looseness in their shoulders that wasn't there before that Rowan finds herself smiling at.

“Ah, we have guests today?” A rough male voice greets and an older man wanders over to them. His blue eyes sharp despite the weathered skin of his face and his smile is kind, even with the missing teeth. “They must be important for them to be sitting so close to you Huntmaster”

Eina chuckles. “Kedrik! You must have slept through the commotion yesterday during our arrival. This is Rowan, Herald to Haven and tamer of that Beast you created. Next to her is Athras of Clan Lavellan of the Dalish and Isana of House Cadash” The Huntmaster explains, motioning to each woman in turn. “Friends, this is Kedrik. He is one of our Hold Elders and the one who bred the Beast. He cares for our animals and mounts.”

Rowan nodded deeply to the Elder as he appraised her, keen eyes sweeping over her form. “A pleasure to meet you Elder. Melkor will be treated kindly in my care, I assure you of this”

“Melkor? You have named the Beast?” Kedrik’s brows raised lightly at the sentence, looking surprised.

“And ridden upon his back” She confirmed, making him look even more surprised.

“Then I am honored to know you, Rowan of HavenHold. That Beast is a powerful one, and to know he has been tamed gives my heart great peace.” Kedrik inclined his head for a moment saluted Eina in goodbye and wandered off, his great age showing in the way he walked. 

The next few people who walked over were much the same, curious about the newcomers and their apparent position of importance by Eina and Madri. Some recognized her from the day before, looking at her wide-eyed, while others were simply curious as to who the low-landers were, but didn't look unhappy about their presence. 

But that didn't mean Rowan didn't catch looks from those who stayed along the fringes, some looks more poisonous than others. It seemed that the camp was half-and-half in regards to the strangers, with the majority of the concerning looks coming from younger men, and while Rowan was a bit nervous about joining them, she felt better knowing her friends were there with her.

_ Well, a bit more than friends _ She thought, feeling Heimarr gently grasp her hand under the sleeve of her coat. The ache in her chest was better now, and the Bond was thrumming lightly with contentment on Heimarr’s half as he talked with Madri and Eina. On her left, Isana and Athras were also chatting, leaving Rowan silent in the middle of two conversations on either side of her.

The Circle filled in quickly, people taking seats and talking amongst each other, passing around bowls of food, large sloshing wine-skins, and instruments of various kinds. 

“Are you going to sing low-lander?” A murmur came from behind her, the low voice surprising her. Turning slightly, she saw a stranger, holding a variety of instruments in his hands. He was a bit older, even broader in the shoulder than Heimarr, but looked simply curious at her presence. Rowan blinked down at the instruments in his hands, and saw one familiar among the small group.

“I think I will, thank you. May I borrow that?” She pointed at the instrument in question and the stranger nodded, handing the guitar over to her. She released Heimarr’s hand and carefully strummed the stringed instrument to find it was in good tune, leading Athras to glance over to her and do a double-take.

“You play, Herald?”

“A bit. My brother is better, but I can play well enough to entertain” Rowan replied easily and placed her instrument by her feet, following the lead of the others who had chosen to play for the night. “Can you play?”

Athras shook her head quietly. “My little brother has all the talent in the family. My only skill is with a bow, and that's how it will stay” She said and looked to Isana. “What about you  _ vhenan _ ?”

Isana blushed at the use of the foreign word, but she also shook her head at the question. “Not at all. Can't sew or sing neither.” She admitted sheepishly. To this, Rowan smiled and shrugged.

“Everyone has their skills” She conceded and looked around at the group. “One cannot try at everything and still be expected to succeed.”

“Indeed, my Bonded” Heimarr said, coming into their conversation. “But we must be quiet now, Eina is about to address the Circle”

The three outsiders did as they were bid, watching as Eina stood up to address the group as a whole, her voice carrying easily. “Greetings people of White Raven Hold! Tonight we open our Circle to new hopes, a new alliance, and new friends! To those who recognize her, the one who tamed our Beast and holds the heart of my wife-brother has come to join us in song and story. I ask that you be kind to her and to her companions, as it is she who vouched for us in this alliance. Now, let us travel along the Circle and sing!”

The Circle’s noise begins anew, with such a sudden force that it takes Rowan’s public acting training that she doesn't flinch. Isana and Athras, however, are not so composed, and she can feel Isana start beside her and the dwarf makes a small squeaking noise. 

But, Rowan does realize something very quickly about the arrangement as Madri’s voice, a soft soprano, wafts over the Circle. 

While Rowan was hoping not to be the first singer of the Circle, she realizes being the last is even  _ worse _ . The gathered Avvar are friends, singing along to the familiar songs being sung and throwing in snippets to stories as they ran on. It was rare, Rowan found, for only one person to be singing or talking at once, and even Isana and Athras knew some of the songs as they were sung, despite their assurances neither of them knew how to sing.

But Rowan? 

Her songs were unknown here, her stories half-way inconceivable to most of the people within the Circle (and many of those outside it), and as the stories and song grew closer to her, she could feel panic crawl up her back. Even Heimarr’s heavy hand on hers and the near-constant thrum of contentment wasn't enough to quell it.

However, Rowan Ardor Kent was no quitter and as Athras and Isana declined the invitation to sing or tell a story, the eyes of the Circle were on her. Her hand slipped from Heimarr’s and she picked up the guitar quietly, resting the body in her lap and familiarly resting her fingers on the neck.

With a deep breath and a mental sorting of her music, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

_ “There's a land of fog and shadow way down below _

_ Where every door is sinking 'neath cold white snow _

_ And the lake is frozen over, nothing ever grows _

_ Where the wind weeps Eleanor, 'tis there I go” _

Rowan’s choice of music was always a strange one, but AMS seemed perfect, their songs both a haunting story and a beautiful tune sung by Mr. Storm and Mr. Tender. 

The re-telling of Orpheus and Eurydice was a favorite of hers, despite her audience not being aware of the references it made. She sang in substitutions for a rifle to a bow, and shells to arrows, and by the time she had reached the foul lair of the Devil, the Circle was looking at her wide-eyed to hear the end of the tale. 

And hear it they did, the Circle going utterly quiet as they hear the Narrator vow revenge on the Devil, and there was a beat of utter silence and Rowan awkwardly waited for Heimarr or Eina to talk and end the staring.

She got her wish, but only by half.

“Will you sing another for us, Rowan?” Eina asked and the younger woman’s eyes shot to her, wide and shocked. The Huntmaster turned to the Circle and raised her voice bit. “Who else would like to hear our guest honor us again with a song?” 

The cheer was resounding and Rowan resisted a sigh as she picked up the guitar again and resigned herself to a sore throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to add the song Rowan sings! It's called The Wind Weeps Eleanor by American Murder Song. I highly recommend AMS to those who like weird music with catchy tunes. 
> 
> AMS will make repeated appearances in the story too, as it's also one of Rowans favorite bands and most of their music is easy to use in a Thedas setting.

**Author's Note:**

> Title Definition:  
> Minacious: Menacing or threatening


End file.
